


A Story Never Told

by MaryEvH



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryEvH/pseuds/MaryEvH





	1. Chapter 1

_Éponine_

 

Part of me still couldn’t believe this was happening.

The man I loved had fallen for _her,_ of all people.

I watched them at the gate of the house at Rue Plumet, professing their love for each other, and I fully realized that Marius and I could never be together. He could never feel this way about me. Not after Cosette.

And why should he love me? He was a Baron, a wealthy man, and I was a street rat, no better than the dirt under his shoes. My parents were disgraced con artists whose slow fall from what little grace we had began when I was still just a child. Papa’s inn was only a front for our constant theft – a bad one, at that – and when it went under, we took to the streets, now in elaborate disguises and concocting dangerous plans. Papa and Mama continued trying to scam passersby; when I wasn’t roaming the streets, “seducing” men so Papa could pick their pockets, I became an assistant lookout to Montparnasse, and I hated every minute of it. I never said anything to my parents, because I would have gotten the beating of my life, but I had always hated cheating innocent people, even if it was our only way to live. After I met Marius, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and the others at the ABC, I had learned to see the affected side of Mama and Papa’s schemes – the innocent passersby we had cheated for as long as I had been alive, and longer. These poor were not so different from us, and yet, they were so much better than us, because they had found honest ways to keep food on the table. They never had to resort to running from the law.

Suddenly, Marius was leaving the gate.

Jerked out of my reverie, I waited for him to exit the spotlight of the moon. “Alright?” I asked softly as he approached me, although I knew what his answer would be. “Do you still need my help?”

He shook his head. “I can find the way back on my own.” Grinning ear to hear, he hugged me tightly, a bit to my surprise. “Thank you, ‘Ponine,” he grinned, racing off in the direction of his house. I watched him leave, and with a sigh, started my own walk home.

I hadn’t gone more than a few feet when I heard an angry, but familiar, male voice.

“Who is this hussy?”

“It’s your brat, Éponine!” an answer came. “Don’t you know your own kid? Why’s she hangin’ about here?”

Papa’s rough hand suddenly grabbed my arm as he turned me to face him. “Éponine, get on home. You’re not needed in this; we’re enough here without you.”

“I know this house, I tell you!” I protested. “There’s nothing here for you, just the old man and the girl. They live ordinary lives!”

“Don’t interfere!” he snapped. “You’ve got some gall. Take care, young miss; you’ve got a lot to say.”

Wildly, I searched my brain for a solution. I was desperate and scared of what my father could do – I had plenty of childhood experience with it – but I knew that if I truly loved Marius, I would do something, anything, to ensure his happiness with Cosette.

“I’m gonna scream! I’m gonna warn them here!”

“One little scream, and you’ll regret it for a year!” Papa threatened.

As soon as he turned his back, advancing towards the house, I steeled myself. _For you, sweet Marius, who will never be mine._ I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and screamed shrilly at the top of my lungs. I heard the ensuing chaos in the house, but I kept screaming, knowing I would pay dearly for this.

“You wait, my girl! You’ll rue this night!” Papa yelled, clearly furious with my insubordination.

_Yep, I’m in serious trouble now. But I can’t back down. I’ve crossed the last line. Come on, ‘Ponine. Do it for Marius._

“I’ll make you scream –!” I cut him off by spitting in his face. “You’ll scream, alright!”

I suddenly felt a hard, backhanded slap across my face that nearly sent me spinning. _He may have drawn some blood with that one. Wouldn’t be the first time._ All the same, I only permitted a small grunt to leave me. “Police!” I heard him shout.

Fear leaped through my heart. A woman would be in much more trouble at the scene of a crime than a man. A woman could end up in prison for much longer than a man. I didn’t know if Papa was serious or not, but as it started to rain, I ran home, unwilling to risk my hide for his.

As I ran through the rain, I started to remember…

 

_I was suddenly 8 years old again, running and laughing through the inn while Cosette, the sickly little servant girl, went to fetch more water from the wood. When the pail was full, it was far too heavy for the weak little girl, but Mama and Papa made her do it all the time anyway. I had always loved tormenting her. Mama and Papa didn’t even mind my cruelty to her – in fact, they often did the same._

_One day, when things around the inn started to get boring and none of Papa’s cronies were around to entertain me; I decided to lie in wait outside the wood for Cosette. When she came back from the well in the wood, I would “accidentally” knock the bucket from her thin hands. It wouldn’t be hard; Cosette could never keep a steady grip on the thing, much to Mama and Papa’s everlasting anger and chagrin._

I started to let up my pace when I couldn’t hear Papa and his gang anymore; they had to be far behind me now…

 

_I chose a fairly large tree close to the front of the wood and hid behind it once Cosette was out of sight. As her lark-like singing voice faded away, I got more excited about my little prank. Part of me almost wished Brujon, Babet and Montparnasse were here to see me put my little idea into action. They’d be so proud of my smarts! “Look at our little ‘Ponine,” Brujon would say proudly, almost affectionately, in his naturally gruff voice. “Smarter than her years, eh, Montparnasse?”_

_“So it would seem,” Montparnasse would grin at me, maybe granting me an affectionate slap on the shoulder. “Pretty soon, she’ll be running with us!” Babet couldn’t talk; he’d had his tongue cut out as a young man, but I could picture the thin-lipped smile he’d give me. I had always glowed when Papa’s cronies praised me. The validation made me feel good about myself, for once in my short life. Mama and Papa always doted on me, but it never felt as sincere when I heard it from them as it did from Papa’s friends._

The streets started to look more familiar as I went; I wasn’t far from home now. Home, a decrepit excuse for four walls, a few harsh words from my mother for being out late, and a real beating from Papa when he got back…

 

 _Cosette’s approaching little song suddenly jerked me out of my fictional reverie._ Focus, ‘Ponine! _I criticized myself. I peeked out from behind the tree, scanning the woods for the little girl. Ah, there she was! She wasn’t far from my hiding place now. Her tiny frame was making slow but sure progress towards the front of the woods – and me – clearly struggling to support the full bucket._

I found our little shack, at last, and with a heavy sigh, stepped through the curtain that passed for a door.

“And just where have you been, little missy?” I heard my mother’s yelling voice. I sighed heavily in frustration; there was no getting past that woman’s sense of hearing.

“Out,” I answered shortly. I was in no mood to deal with her.

 

_“Alouette?” I called softly as she approached me. Alouette meant “lark,” and it was what we called Cosette because of her voice._

_The lark-song stopped suddenly, and she put the bucket down as I came out from my hiding place. “Éponine?” she asked in confusion._

_“That’s Mistress Éponine to you,” I snapped back at her in my most haughty voice. I loved being able to use it. “This is my house, and you’re nothing more than my family’s servant.”_

_Cosette bowed her head, obviously afraid of what I could do to her with just a few words. I liked that feeling, knowing that I had control over her in a unique way._

“I won’t have that, Éponine Thénardier!” Mama snapped, grabbing my arm when I tried to pass her. “Tell me where you’ve been in this rain, and why your face is bleeding!”

“I told you, I was out!” I yelled back, jerking my arm free. “Marius and I were just walking around the city before it started raining. And your damn husband is the reason my face is bleeding. He slapped me.”

“Well, I’m sure you did something to deserve it,” Mama said angrily. “And I highly doubt that you were ‘just walking around the city’ with a boy like Marius Pontmercy, especially in this rain. For God’s sake, child, just look at you!”

“What about my looks, Mama? I love him, and if he loved me too, he wouldn’t care!” I covered my mouth as soon as the words were out. I couldn’t believe I’d just slipped up and confessed my deepest secret in front of my mother.

 

_“You want some help with the bucket?” I asked, faking a kind voice._

_Cosette looked at me warily; had she seen through my scheme? I tried to make my eyes as sincere as possible, and after a moment, she seemed to trust me. “It is rather heavy,” she said with a nervous chuckle. She took a hold of the handle with her tiny, weak hands. “Can you try to lift the bottom, Mistress Éponine?”_

_Grinning to myself, when the bucket left the ground, I pushed it up hard and tipped it back into her face. She tumbled backwards, the now empty bucket on top of her. The look of shock was still painted on her face as I ran away laughing, and she began to cry._

Mama laughed aloud when I spoke. “You love him? You _love_ him? Oh, ‘Ponine, my naïve little firstborn,” she snorted. “How could you ever delude yourself into thinking that a wealthy man like Marius Pontmercy could ever condescend to love a filthy street rat like Éponine Thénardier?”

I stepped back from her, stung by her words. Before the situation could escalate any further, however, Papa showed up. My heart started to pound with fear. _What’s he going to do with me now?_

“Ah, there’s my little rat of a daughter,” he snarled, grabbing my arm and slapping my face hard again. As always, Mama didn’t stop him. “Just you wait; I’ll teach you not to disobey me again.” He threw me aside, and I landed on my back on the hard floor. “Now get out of my sight before I kill you. Montparnasse is waiting outside.”

I was stunned for a moment that I was actually alive, but hurried outside before he changed his mind. Sure enough, Montparnasse was waiting for me outside, already drenched by the rain.

“Evening, ‘Ponine,” he said slickly, tipping his hat to me in an overdramatic gesture. Montparnasse was several years older than me, and had been a lookout for my parents for years. Papa had enlisted me to be his assistant when I was nine. Now, after 10 years working with him, I was almost better than he was.

“Oh, shut up, ‘Parnasse,” I snapped, my well-trained eyes scanning the streets for the police. My mood was getting worse and worse by the moment, and tonight, Montparnasse’s slickness wasn’t entertaining the way it usually was. It was just irritating.

He raised an eyebrow at my sharp tone, eyeing me carefully as I tracked a group of horseback police that turned down a neighboring street. “Well, well, well, what’s got the cat baring her claws tonight?” he said, moving to stand in front of me. He was still eyeing me in a way I didn’t like, and I wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

“Enough of the metaphors, ‘Parnasse. I’m in a bad mood.”

“I can see that much for myself,” he snorted, continuing to approach me. “The only question I have is, why would you not want to confide in me, when you’ve known me your whole life?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Just because I’ve known you my whole life doesn’t mean I trust you with my secrets, Montparnasse.”

A look of mock offense crossed his face. “Oh come now, ‘Ponine. Why wouldn’t you trust me?”

“You steal and lie for a living. Men like that can’t be trusted, no matter how much they say they can be. I should know; I was raised by one.”

I saw a dangerous anger flash through his eyes, before the same sickly sweetness returned. “But I _am_ different, ‘Ponine.” Before I knew it, my back was against the wall, and he was holding my wrists down. “It’s just me, your Montparnasse.”

Shock and mild fear came over me. “’Parnasse, what the hell –?”

He put a finger to my lips to shush me, pushing me harder into the wall as he did so. “Quiet now, little ‘Ponine,” he whispered in my ear. His breath was rotten, and made me feel sick. “Don’t make me go get your papa and tell him you’re misbehaving.”

‘Parnasse had always known how to play his hand. I knew he’d go get Papa, and then I’d be dead, so I reluctantly went quiet. “Good girl,” he grinned maliciously, slamming his lips onto mine. His mouth tasted as rancid as his breath smelled. Unwillingly, I kissed him back, knowing things would only get worse if I kept trying to resist him. His hands moved from my wrists, but I was smart enough to keep them where they were, or he’d slap me. His slaps were almost as bad as Papa’s, but what he did next was worse than a slap or kissing me.

As the kiss ended, I felt his hand grab my right breast as the other tried to lift my skirt. I winced in pain as he squeezed it too roughly, and he chuckled to himself, lifting my skirt a little higher. “Be a good girl, ‘Ponine,” he whispered in his same, sickly sweet tone.

“Like hell,” I hissed, before kicking him hard just under the chin. He fell to the ground, his head making a sickening _thunk_ against the cobblestones when he hit the ground and stayed there. I put two fingers to his wrist, the way I’d seen Joly do, and felt a pulse. _Thank God I didn’t kill him. Papa really would kill me then._

I couldn’t believe what was happening tonight. One minute, I was getting my heart broken, then after running for my life from Papa, one of his closest friends, had tried to rape me. Before long, the tears came again, and before I knew it, I was running to the one person I knew I could still trust.


	2. Chapter 2

_Enjolras_

A frantic, constant knock at the downstairs door of the Café Musain tore me from sleep in the middle of the night.

I had just been having a very vivid dream about the battle to come, when the loud pounding woke me. The knock only sped up and got louder as I stumbled out of bed, hastening to pull on pants and a shirt over my sleeping clothes, continuing to stumble down the stairs. “I’m coming; I’m coming!” I rasped as I hurried across the ground floor room, rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes. The wooden floorboards chilled my bare feet, which helped to wake me up. The knocking slowed down and quieted a little when I spoke.

And when I opened the door, still squinting a little from sleep, I was greeted by quite the surprise.

“Éponine?” I asked a little incredulously. “What’re you –?”

“Please let me in, Enjolras,” she begged, seemingly on the verge of tears. “I have to get away from him…”

“A-alright,” I stammered, shutting the door behind her and re-locking it as she hurried in. I was now wide awake and extremely confused by this whole situation. I knew now was not the right moment to interrogate her, but my curiosity got the better of me as she half-collapsed into a chair at the table. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head hard, hastily wiping her eyes. “I’m fine.”  
         It was obvious that she was lying, and I shook my head, too. “If you were fine you wouldn’t have come to me, especially at this time of night.” My eyes fell on her right hand that was resting on the table. “You’re trembling,” I said softly in concern as I sat next to her and took the gaunt, bony hand in both of mine. It shook like a leaf in my gentle grasp. “What’s wrong?” I asked gently, barely placing a hand to her cheek. It came away with a thin line of red across my palm, which alarmed me more. “Éponine, you’re bleeding…who did this to you?”

She recoiled from my touch as if I had slapped her, standing up abruptly and looking away from me. “Enjolras, please…”

I stood up also, more confused than ever. _What on earth is wrong with this woman?_ “Éponine…it’s just me. Me, Enjolras. You came to me; why are you so afraid? Just tell me what’s going on,” I said softly, but not touching her again. The trick now would be coaxing her into talking about what had happened. “Come upstairs,” I attempted. “We can talk in my room, and I’ll see to that cut on your face.”

“I thought Joly was the medical student,” she said dryly.

I suppressed a wince. The girl had always had a razor-sharp tongue, and knew how to use it. _She grew up on mean streets. She probably had to._ “He’s taught me enough that I can help you,” I answered. She hesitated for a moment, before cautiously following me up the stairs. “Can I get you a glass of wine?” I offered as she sat down on the edge of my bed.

“Please,” she said heavily, holding her head and closing her eyes. After recovering the medical supplies I would need from the cabinet, I found an already-open bottle of Merlot in the wine storage and poured two glasses, handing one to her as I sat down.

“Now,” I said gently, taking a drink, “what’s troubling you?” I set the glass down on the floor and opened the jar of ointment. “Fair warning, this might sting a little.” I started gently dabbing a little bit of the ointment across the length of the cut. Her cheek was hot to the touch, and it was still bleeding a little onto my finger.

She gasped softly at the sting, sipping her wine. “I-it’s…nothing. I’m fine; I’ll be fine.” All I had to do is raise my eyebrows and look at her as if to say, _No, you’re not fine. Tell me what’s going on._ She sighed heavily. “Alright, you know that’s not it…it’s about Marius.”

“What has he done?” I demanded, perhaps a little more harshly than I should have, unrolling the proper length of bandage. Everyone at the ABC knew Marius wasn’t capable of hurting a fly, but if Éponine was this upset, then something bad must have happened.

“He’s done nothing. That’s exactly it,” she answered bitterly, taking another drink of wine as I cut it. “I’ve loved him for years, and never once has he returned my affections. And tonight, I took him to Cosette’s house, and watched as he told her everything I’ve wanted him to tell me for all those years. It…hurts, Enjolras.”

I placed the bandage across her face and gently put a hand on her shoulder, though I was afraid of setting her off again. “I know, ‘Ponine. Believe me, I know.” Surprise flashed through her eyes when I use the nickname for her that the others at the ABC used – I had never called her that before; I was raised as a gentleman and addressed the women of my acquaintance by their given names. However, she didn’t pull away from me. “What else? I can tell that’s not all of it.”

She nodded and took another drink of wine as I went to wash off my hands and put the medical supplies away. “Papa showed up at the house just after Marius left. He was going to attack Cosette’s father…maybe kill him; I don’t really know. Anyway, I screamed to warn them, even when Papa told me not to, so he…backhanded me…hard.” She wiped her eyes again, clearly determined not to cry in front of me. “And as you discovered, he drew blood. He yelled something about the police, so I ran home…not that it would make things any better to go home to my Mama,” she said bitterly. “I knew it wouldn’t.”

I nodded in understanding, taking another drink when I sat back down on the bed. Éponine’s mother, Madame Thénardier, had quite the reputation for being…well, more than a bit of a shrew. She could dote on her children one moment, and beat them the next. Everyone said she was quite an inscrutable woman.

“Anyway, she interrogated me about where I’d been, and I told her Marius and I had been walking around the city. When I tried to defend myself and told her I love him, she laughed in my face and said, ‘Oh, ‘Ponine, my naïve little firstborn. How could you ever delude yourself into thinking that a wealthy man like Marius Pontmercy could ever condescend to love a filthy street rat like Éponine Thénardier?’”

She bit back tears as she quoted her mother’s harsh words, and I clenched my left hand into a fist on the bed where ‘Ponine couldn’t see it. _That bitch. How could she say that to her own daughter? Marius doesn’t even know what he’s missing!_

“Before we could keep fighting, Papa came home and told me to get out of his sight before he killed me. He was, obviously, still furious that I had screamed back at Rue Plumet. So I went outside to do my regular lookout duties with Montparnasse…but then…h-he…” She stopped again, biting her lower lip insecurely.

“Éponine…” I start to say softly – almost tenderly, I notice – putting a hand to her shoulder again. “You don’t have to – ”

“I want to, Enjolras,” she insisted. “I need to get this off my chest.” I hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and gestured for her to continue. “He…tried to come onto me…” She took a moment to gather herself, staring down at her lap while she spoke. “He pushed me against the wall first, and…kissed me…” she shuddered. “It was awful. Then he…grabbed my breast in one hand, and…tried to lift my skirt with the other…”

I could perfectly picture that asshole Montparnasse doing exactly what she described, and I tried unsuccessfully to keep my blood from boiling with rage. “That slimy bastard,” I hissed. “How’d you get away?”

“Knocked him out,” she muttered, looking down at the floor. “And then I ran here before Papa had a chance to catch me…because I knew I could still trust you.”

“Always, Éponine,” I answered surely. “I’ll always be here for you.”

A bit to my dismay, she broke down in tears again, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “Why is this happening to me, Enjolras?” She sobbed. “What did I do to deserve this punishment? What is God up to?!”

“Oh, ‘Ponine…” I whispered, standing and taking her in my arms. The wine sat on my bedside table, long forgotten. I swayed gently back and forth, holding her close, stroking her hair and letting her cry as I shushed her and murmured random nonsense in her ear. “Shh, it’s alright…I’m here, you’re fine…everything’s going to be alright, I promise. God is not punishing you for anything. Don’t cry, ‘Ponine…it’ll all be fine, I’ll make it okay.” I realized, in the midst of murmuring to her and rocking her back and forth, that I had never really been the comforting type – I was always the great orator who made the people’s blood boil with revolution – yet here I was, holding this sobbing woman and doing my best to calm her down. And it even seemed to be working, because her sobs were soon gasps, and then just ragged breaths. _Grantaire would have a field day if he could see this. Who knew I had a soft side?_

Suddenly, of my own accord, I drew her back from me and ran the pad of my thumb across her cheek, drying her remaining tears. “Éponine…” I whispered, my tone of voice almost passionate. She looked at me for a moment, wide-eyed, before I slowly dipped my head down and did the most insane thing I could think of.

 

_Éponine_

 

The kiss didn’t last more than a second, but it was still good. His lips were surprisingly soft and sweet against mine. His touch was gentle without being too weak, yet strong without being too forceful at the same time. It felt almost cleansing after the forced kiss from Montparnasse. There was no passion, no heat to it – just the simple fact that he understood, even if I didn’t, what was going on.

But when the moment ended, I was more confused than ever. Enjolras had never behaved this way towards me – if anything; he’d been pretty standoffish. And now here he was, holding me while I bawled my eyes out on his shoulder and kissing me when I stopped. It didn’t make sense.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asked softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“W-what?”

“You can’t exactly go home with your father as angry as he is, now can you?” he remarked wryly. “All I’m offering you is a bed under a friendly roof and a meal when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Then I may have to take you up on it,” I said, realizing just how weary – and how hungry – I was.

He smiled and went to another cabinet next to his bed, producing a pillow and blankets for himself. “I’m going downstairs; I can sleep on a makeshift bed down there,” he explained. “The real bed’s all yours.”

“Enjolras – ” I started to protest.

“Éponine, there’s no point in arguing this with me. You won’t win.”

I sighed. “Fine, if you insist.”

“I do,” he answered, still smiling. “Sleep well, ‘Ponine,” he said softly, kissing my forehead before quietly shutting the door behind him, as if I were already asleep.

I watched him leave and listen to his footsteps fade away down the stairs, more confused than ever. _What’s gotten into him, being so kind to me and taking me in for the night? He’s never acted this way._ I shook my head to clear it and slipped my dress off before climbing into the bed. It was still warm from him, and extremely comfortable. Soon, I’d forgotten my worries and was fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I was reluctant to wake, but eventually, sleep ended. As I regained consciousness and looked around the spacious room, I realized that I wasn’t at home. It took me a minute to remember everything that happened the previous night – taking Marius to Rue Plumet, stopping Papa’s attack, arguing with Mama, knocking out Montparnasse, kissing Enjolras…

Kissing Enjolras…

Even though I could almost still feel his lips on mine, it puzzled me that he was suddenly so kind to me. I had no clue what brought it on, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to figure it out. As I sat up in the bed, I noticed something that hadn’t been in the room last night. It was a lovely, light blue dress, draped across the chair with a note.

I stepped out of the bed and walked slowly towards it. Almost afraid to touch it, as if it would disappear, I picked up the small square of parchment and read his quick, but still sophisticated scrawl.

 

_Éponine,_

_I took the liberty of guessing your size and went to the dressmaker this morning while you were still asleep. I won’t have a guest of mine dressed in rags, and this should be a good fit, if I guessed correctly. Put it on and come downstairs whenever you’re hungry. Breakfast will be waiting for you._

_-Enjolras_

 

Hesitantly, I reached out and touched the dress. The material was clean and soft, not like the dirty rags I was accustomed to wearing. _Why would he do this for me…?_ I picked it up slowly and held it up to my figure; it looked like a perfect fit. I slipped it on, laced it up, and sure enough, it was. I couldn’t resist a single twirl in front of the mirror. With a small smile, I opened the door and slowly walked downstairs.

Enjolras was already in the kitchen, and smiled when he turned around and saw me. “Ah, I was just thinking you’d be up soon,” he said. “I’m glad to see the dress I got you fits.”

I smiled shyly. “It’s beautiful. How much –?”

“Don’t,” he said with a smile. Again, I realized it would be fruitless to argue with him and let it go.

“Thank you, again,” I smiled. “How long was I asleep?”

“About 9 or 10 hours. It’s almost midday.”

I yawned. “Already?”

He chuckled. “I trust you slept well, then?”

“Very,” I smiled; I already felt much more relaxed around him. The awkwardness of last night seemed to have faded, though awfully quickly. “You have a very comfortable bed,” I chuckled.

He smiled. “It hasn’t failed me yet, even in the short time I’ve been boarding here.” He turned back around and said over his shoulder, “I hope you’re hungry; I’ve still got plenty of breakfast.”

“I’m starving, actually,” I laughed, sitting down at the table, where a mug of fresh tea was already waiting for me. A plate of food accompanied it not long after, which I soon devoured. I was sure no one at the ABC knew it, but Enjolras was quite the cook. I took one sip of the tea – English breakfast, brewed just the way I liked. _How did he know…?_ Part of me wondered. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste and exhaling deeply. The tea calmed me immensely, and I made short work of it as well. “Thank you again, for letting me stay here last night,” I murmured when I finished. “There was no way I could have gone home.”

He smiled again, sitting down next to me at the table and putting a hand on mine. _“Ce n'était rien, chèrie,”_ he murmured, running his thumb back and forth across the back of my hand. It was nothing, dear.

This touch was, in a way, no different from when he put a concerned hand on my shoulder last night when I showed up at his door in distress – it was merely affectionate friend-to-friend contact. But at the same time, the feeling that went through me when his skin touched mine was so… _different_ than last night. I wanted him – I suddenly, violently, passionately wanted him. I looked into his eyes, making sure to hold his gaze, and noticed for the first time just how beautiful their unique blue-gray hue was. His face started to change as he looked at me, as if he knew what was on my mind.

As I gained the nerve, I slowly started to lean in…

Then his mouth was on mine again, and I couldn’t control myself.

The kiss last night hadn’t been enough to truly feel what his touch was like – it wasn’t even a real kiss. Now…now I could taste the unique, almost tangy sweetness of his lips, I felt them part just enough for my tongue to slide between them as he sucked in a breath of surprise. I felt an ecstatic joy, like no feeling I’d ever had, start at our touching mouths and spread through my whole body. It warmed me in a completely new way. I reached for him, he reached for me, and then his hot, panting breath was in my mouth, his tongue not far behind. I wanted every inch of him, right then.

Simultaneously, we stood up from the table without breaking the kiss, enabling us to hold each other closer. The synchronization was perfect; it was like we had read each other’s minds. We were already breathing hard, but neither of us wanted it to stop. I felt his hands turn to fists against the small of my back, gripping the dress, while my fingers tangled into his long, soft hair, pressing his face to mine. He responded by picking me up by the knees and pressing my back into the nearest wall. “Oh God…’Ponine…” he groaned between kisses, gasping for breath before he attacked my mouth again, harder than before. I whimpered and held my legs around his waist with my knees, freeing his hands to roam my body as they pleased. I moaned in pleasure and pain when he squeezed my thighs, gasped and whimpered as his hands none too gently traveled up my sides, and let out a loud groan when he reached my breasts.

By now, he was kissing my neck so tenderly that I couldn’t stop shivering with the pleasure. His warm, heavy hands were massaging my breasts as he panted across my skin. I could feel his breath raising goosebumps on my neck. The ecstasy of the moment was almost too much to take. “They’re so perfect…” he whispered in admiration, squeezing the left one gently.

I pressed his hands into them and panted, “Do it harder, Enjolras…I want you to feel me more…”

My words clearly had the desired effect of inflaming him even more. He growled deep in his throat and attacked my mouth a third time, squeezing my breasts again, this time just hard enough to hurt a little. At the same time, he started slowly grinding his hips against mine, and bit the base of my neck hard. The combined sensations drove me out of my mind with pleasure and wanting. “Enjolras…!” I moaned, punctuating it with a gasp.

“Éponine…” he growled in my ear, catching my lower lip between his teeth as we kissed again. Everything about this moment, I started to realize as my hands worked their way back into his hair, was shockingly similar to what Montparnasse had attempted last night, but my reaction to Enjolras was so different than to ‘Parnasse. There was nothing forced about this; there was no power or dominance about this – this was the exact opposite. The moment was a shared pleasure.

When he finished at my chest, his arms circled tightly around my back, his hands moving up to the laces of my dress.

That was when I lost it.

 

_Enjolras_

I didn’t quite understand Éponine’s sudden advance at breakfast. Not that I minded in the least; I was in love with the girl. It just didn’t make sense when she’d come to my door last night practically in hysterics about Marius and Cosette.

In any case, the moment she kissed me, I let my brain shut down and allowed my body to take over. This was not the time for logic. It was obvious from the first touch that she wanted this; she was desperate for it. And as for me…I had dreamed about this moment countless times – the heat of her body in my arms, her soft, perfect breasts pressing into my chest, the soft, smooth skin of her neck under my lips, then between my teeth, the sound of her voice moaning out my name in passion as our lips crashed together again. I had wanted Éponine for almost four years, and now here she was, in the kitchen of the Café Musain, acting ready for me to take her back to my bed.

Until my hands reached the top of her back, where the laces of her dress were, just after I had growled her name.

I never had any intention of undressing her. Despite the heat of the moment, my rational mind knew it was far too early to go there. She was still far too scared and upset – I suspected her strange mix of frenzied emotions had something to do with her sudden change of attitude – and I wasn’t going to take advantage of her in her vulnerability, despite what my body wanted so badly. Éponine was not the first woman I’d taken to bed; I knew to go slower than that.

But when my hands reached the top of her dress, she screamed – clearly not in pleasure; any man would have been able to tell – and she shoved me back hard, sinking to the floor and curling up. I stumbled backwards, away from her, shocked and confused and still struggling to catch my breath as she started to cry. _Dear God, am I suddenly that bad at it? It wasn’t two minutes ago that she couldn’t get enough!_

“…’P-Ponine?” I stammered nervously when a moment passed. “W-what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, still sobbing, but between gasps, I could make out that she was saying, “I can’t…I can’t…God save me, I can’t…”

“Éponine, you’re not making sense,” I said gently. I wanted to help her somehow, but I was afraid to approach her again. The last thing I wanted was for her to recoil from me again. That would hurt more than the physical shove. “’Ponine…tell me what’s going on, sweetheart.” _Did I really just go there?_ “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She started gasping again, but seemed to be calming down before she answered. “It’s…it’s just too soon, Enjolras…not after Marius…n-not after he…” she broke down again before she could finish her sentence, pulling her knees up to her chest.

I sighed softly in pity and knelt next to her. When she didn’t shy away from me again, I gently wrapped my arms around her shaking frame and let her keep crying, rocking her back and forth again. _This is insane. The woman I love has just had her heart broken by one of my friends, and after spending the night in the Café with me, she starts kissing me like there’s no tomorrow, and now I’m comforting her again as she cries about that. How on earth did I end up here?_

“Éponine…Éponine, look at me,” I said gently, but firmly. She turned her face to look into my eyes. Hers were already red and puffy, and I gently wiped away a single tear. Miraculously, she didn’t flinch. _I suppose she still trusts me that much._ “Tell me where I went wrong,” I murmured, gently brushing her hair away from her face. “Tell me my part in making you upset, and I’ll apologize.”

 _“Mon Dieu,_ Enjolras, how could you think any of this is your fault?” she asked, almost laughing at me as she dried her eyes. “You’ve…been so kind to me…you let me sleep here when I came to your door in the pouring rain in hysterics, and then you went to the dressmaker’s for me while I was still asleep. How could I possibly be upset with you?”

I struggled with how to approach this one. I had always been a good orator, but right now, when I needed my skills the most, they seemed to have left me. “W-well…obviously, something happened just now to trigger this,” I answered. “Did I…do something wrong?”

She wiped her eyes again before answering. “When your hands went up to the top of my back…” she started to say.

I took a deep breath and held up a hand to stop her. “’Ponine…before you say anything, you have to understand…I had no intention of going that far,” I said, trying not to sound too defensive. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, especially not while you’re still this upset about Marius. My brain was just…off. I wasn’t thinking enough to realize I would upset you by doing that.”

She smiled a little sadly and looked away. “But when you did…it – ”

A frenzied, furious pounding at the door suddenly interrupted her. “Éponine!” a man’s voice demanded; she instantly went pale with fear. I had one guess as to who it was, and I was sure I wasn’t wrong. “Éponine, if you’re in there, get out here NOW!”

“It’s my papa,” she whispered, looking desperately at me. “Enjolras, please…will you hide me just a little longer?”

“ÉPONINE!” The voice demanded.

I looked from the door to the terror in her eyes and knew what I had to do. I whispered, “Get upstairs, and stay there until I tell you to come down. I’ll do my best to handle him.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Before I could count to three, she was out of my arms and had flown up the stairs, the door shut behind her. I made a point to go down the last few, and when the pounding resumed, I used the same line as last night – “I’m coming, I’m coming!” I faked a look of surprise when I opened the door to ‘Ponine’s enraged father. “Monsieur Thénardier?” I asked. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Cut it with the lies, pretty boy,” Thénardier snapped, forcing his way inside. “I want my daughter back, and I want her now.”

“Éponine?” I asked curiously, shutting the door and forcing myself to look over his horrendous breach of manners. “Has she gone missing?”

“Last night,” he said gruffly, “and don’t play stupid with me. I know she came here. She was always overly fond of you revolutionary boys, especially that Pontmercy.”

I frowned, trying to keep my cover – “play stupid” with Thénardier, as it were. “Monsieur, I haven’t seen her. I’m not the one she loves.” My heart stung a little as the words left my mouth, and it took me a minute to recover before I was able to speak again. “If she had come to me, I would have sent her back to you.”

“Liar!” Thénardier roared, punching me hard in the face. I felt my lip split on impact, and quickly put a hand to it. He took advantaged of my momentary inaction to head towards the stairs. Fear leaped through my heart. He couldn’t get to ‘Ponine; he’d kill her. And I had no intentions of letting that happen.

I centered myself behind him, got a running start, and leaped onto his back to distract him just before his foot hit the bottom step. Thénardier roared with frustration and started making an awkward attempt to throw punches behind him, trying to get me off. I somehow managed to dodge all his blows but one. Shortly after he hit me, I lost my grip on him and fell.

The next thing I knew, his foot was pinning my chest to the floor. I could hardly breathe from the pressure. He tried to take a few swings at my face, which I dodged, but he kicked me once in the stomach, and _hard._ I yelped in pain and gripped the spot, which only made him grin a grin that made my heart drop with fear. He turned around to go back up the stairs, and ignoring my screaming stomach, I jackknifed to my feet. Thénardier glared at me, and when he advanced again, I knocked him out with one hard punch to the face. He crumpled to the floor next to the staircase and lay still for a long moment.

I put two fingers to his neck, then wrist, like Joly had taught me, to check for a heartbeat. The pulse was faint, but clear. He was just unconscious for the moment.

“Alright, ‘Ponine. It’s safe,” I called roughly up the stairs.

 

_Éponine_

I regretted seeking refuge in the Café Musain as soon as I heard Enjolras open the door and greet my father. I hadn’t known it then, but by coming here, I’d put him in more danger than he could realize. Papa would stop at nothing to get to me now. He’d kill Enjolras with his bare hands, he’d drag me back to our little hovel by the hair, and then I’d be killed.

I listened at the door to Enjolras’ bedroom as he tried to lie and cover for me, but I knew it would be no use. Papa would know I was here. He’d always been able to read my mind that way, and he knew that I was a friend to almost everyone at the ABC; Mama would have also told him that I was in love with Marius. Sure enough, I heard shouting, there were a few footsteps on the stairs, and then the fighting started. I had to back away from the door then, I couldn’t bear to listen to it and tried not to think about what was happening down there.

It didn’t take very long for a loud _thunk_ that was clearly the sound of a body hitting the floor to happen. I held my breath and waited for what seemed like days – waited for the door to open and either Papa to drag me out, or Enjolras to hold me and tell me everything was okay. Had Enjolras won, or was I about to die?

“Alright, ‘Ponine. It’s safe,” I heard Enjolras’ voice. I slumped in relief against the door. I would live to see another day. Cautiously, I opened the door and started down the stairs, trying to keep my legs from shaking. Enjolras was standing over my father’s limp body, and appeared to be mostly fine. His lower lip was split, I noticed the beginnings of a bruise around his left eye, and he was holding his stomach with one arm. _Papa must have kicked him._

“Is he…?” I asked, pointing at Papa.

Enjolras shook his head. “Just knocked out for now. But we need to get him tied up and hide him, so he can’t try to come for you again.”

I nodded. “Have you got good rope?”

 

It took the two of us about three minutes to tie my father’s hands and feet, gag him and lock him in the closet. Thankfully, we managed all of it before he came to. “He’s going to be furious when he gets out of there…” I murmured when Enjolras pulled the key from the door. “He’ll have a wicked headache _and_ no way to escape. I tied those knots the way he taught me; it’ll take him a month to get out of them.”

Enjolras chuckled, putting an arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle him again when the time comes.” He cringed a little with sudden pain. “Although…my stomach hurts quite a bit…”

“Did he kick you?” I asked. Enjolras nodded. “I’m not surprised it hurts so much, then,” I answered. “He’s always had a wicked kick. I got it more than once as a child. Do you want me to go get a doctor?”

He shook his head. “But if you’re going to bring someone, bring Joly. I know he’s still just a student doctor, but he’s smart, he’s advanced in his studies, and I trust him more than any of the other doctors in Paris.”

I nodded. “Alright, Joly it is. I’ll be back soon.” I steeled myself, and placed one more kiss on his lips before racing out. It didn’t take long for me to get to Joly’s small flat; he didn’t live far from the Café Musain. I knocked hard on the door, but not as urgently as I had last night at Enjolras’ door. Thankfully, he answered promptly, wearing his only threadbare suit. I suspected he was just home from another patient visit, and felt a brief pang of guilt for showing up at his door.

“Éponine? What’s wrong?” He asked, clearly concerned. He had always been kind to me, and I had always liked him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m here for Enjolras,” I said immediately. “He’s been hurt, and he asked me to come fetch you.”

Thankfully, Joly only nodded and didn’t question me further. I could tell that he was already going into doctor mode. When he had a patient that needed him, he didn’t waste time asking unnecessary questions. “Alright. Let me get my bag, and I’ll be right back.” He was already halfway up the stairs when he spoke. Within moments, he was back, carrying a coat over one arm, even in June, a large, black bag in his left hand, and a huge medical textbook in his right. “Is he still at the Café Musain?”

I nodded, already half-ushering him out the door. “Come quickly, I don’t know how much time we can afford to waste.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Enjolras_

Thankfully, Éponine and Joly weren’t long returning to the Café. I had managed to set myself up in the bed before they got back, figuring that would make it easier for Joly to treat me.

“Well, I see you’re well enough to get into your own sickbed, Henri-François,” Joly chuckled, taking a seat next to me and opening his bag. “What happened to you? You look terrible.”

I snorted a little at his quip, but that set off the pain in my stomach again, and I groaned, holding it before I could answer. “Got in a fight with ‘Ponine’s dad…Jean-Baptiste,” I mumbled, looking away. But if he was going to mock me with my Christian name, I would certainly do the same thing to him.

He raised a questioning eyebrow, checking my vitals. “What was Thénardier’s quarrel with you?”

“Me,” Éponine said from the corner where she stood. Joly turned to her, the questioning eyebrow still raised. “I took refuge here last night after a quarrel of my own with him…Papa would have killed me if I’d gone back home, so Enjolras let me stay.”

“I see,” Joly murmured, contemplating.

She leaned past him to look at me. “Henri-François?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“My Christian name. I hate it.”

Joly chuckled. “Well, your vitals are all very good, so you can’t be hurt too badly. However, I do want to see your stomach, with the way you’re holding it like that.” Obediently, I lifted up my shirt enough that he could see it. After the events of this morning, I was sure it would set ‘Ponine off again if I were shirtless. I was able to look down enough to notice a rather large, angry purple and black bruise on my right side. Thénardier had definitely done some damage.

Joly’s thoughtful doctor face came through as he went back and forth between examining me – this involved occasionally poking and prodding a little, telling me to let him know when it hurt – and thumbing through his huge medical book, muttering under his breath as he did so. I watched various illustrated diagrams of the human body as they rapidly flipped in and out of my line of vision.

Out of the corner of my good eye, I saw Éponine sit down by the door and watch Joly as he worked and read. Our eyes only met once, and she quickly looked away; out of shame or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t want to know. It hurt too much to see her like this – more than Thénardier’s kick.

 

_Éponine_

 

After about an hour and a half, Joly had wrapped Enjolras’ stomach and chest, bandaged his lip, applied a poultice to his left eye, and left more of it with instructions for me to apply it to the bruise around his eye every hour. When I had seen him to the door of the Café, I went back upstairs and sat down next to Enjolras, where Joly had been. “Feeling better?” I murmured, stroking his hair back from his face. I was sure he didn’t understand me at all – I knew I was sending lots of ridiculously mixed signals, and I wondered if he could make sense of anything I was doing or saying. _Probably not._

However, he seemed to be okay with a little conversation. “A little. You were right when you said your papa has a wicked kick, though,” he muttered as he sat up a little. “It’s pretty painful…I suspect I’ll have an even nicer bruise there tomorrow.”

I chuckled a little. “As sore as you’re acting and as bruised as you already are, you probably will. I know from experience. Like I said, I got it more than once as a child.”

He shook his head. “How’d you cope?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I suppose it’s like love, in a way,” I said. When he looked at me with a confused frown, I explained. “After a while, you just learn to live with the pain.”

He failed to suppress another snort, and I could tell his stomach hurt again. However, he managed to say, “Well…if dealing with this is like dealing with love, then I’ll be fine.”

I raised an eyebrow at his words, now thoroughly confused and seriously considering bringing Joly back to the Café. Enjolras had _never_ been the romantic type. _Ever._ France was his only love, and it had always been that way. Everyone at the ABC said he had no interest in women – in fact, in his mid-teenage years, he had vowed to die a bachelor. So far, he was staying true to that – at 23, he had never made any attempt to court a single woman. Admitting to knowing the pangs of love was quite out of character for him. This made no sense.

“Y-you…what?”

“Don’t you understand?” he said instantly, clearly pained. “Éponine, I’ve been in love with you for four years, and it’s nearly been the death of me to watch you suffer pining over Marius when I’ve been standing right there next to him. For the last four years, I’ve kept silent and waited for you. I can’t do it anymore.”

I was shocked. Struck dumb, really. _Enjolras…in love? With…me?_ _Impossible._ “W-who else knows?”

“Just Courfeyrac.”

“But…” I stammered; I really had no idea what I wanted to say. I was still trying to wrap my brain around his sudden confession.

“But what?” he said. “Did you not see the signs?”

“What signs?” I asked in exasperation. Suddenly, it was a lot easier to say what was on my mind. “Enjolras, if anything, you were…cold to me. You’ve always kept your distance from me, which I never questioned, since we were raised at different stations. It was only appropriate of you to be polite to me because I’m a woman, but nothing more. I could even understand when we became friends. We shared the same beliefs in the republic, and we’d always gotten along fine. But…love? With the way you acted, it always seemed out of the question.”

His eyes grew wide at my words, and the confusion was evident on his face. I could tell he was rewinding the last four years in his head, trying to see where he hadn’t been obvious about his affections for me. “I…don’t understand, ‘Ponine…” he said, looking almost childlike in his confusion. “I always thought…”

“I know what you thought, Enjolras,” I said, perhaps a little too shortly. “It’s not the same as what you did.” I got up, knowing I was currently unable to have this conversation with him, when he resorted to begging.

“Éponine, wait,” he said. “Please.”

I sighed, but refused to give in. “Enjolras, I’m going home,” I said firmly. In reality, I had no clue where I was going, but I knew I would probably end up there eventually. “I’m not ready to discuss this with you yet, and I’m not ready to make the choice between you and Marius.”

“’Ponine…you can’t go back there. You’ll be killed,” he begged. I could tell his voice was desperate, but I refused to look at him. “I know we’ve got your papa tied up for now, but eventually, he will get out, and he will kill you. I couldn’t bear that.”

“Enjolras, don’t make this harder for me than it already is,” I said shortly. “I told you, I’m going home. I can’t trespass on your hospitality any longer, especially when you’re injured and need your bed.”

“The hell with my injury,” he growled, starting to sit up. I knew Joly wouldn’t be happy with him for trying. “You’ll be worse off than I am if you go back there.”

I smiled sadly. “Maybe it’s no more than I deserve.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” I asked, now turning back to face him. “Why should you love me? You’re a gentleman, a man of status and wealth who chose to mingle with the poor in the hopes of forming a republic. You’re the saint. What am I by comparison? The sinner. I’m a street rat, a beggar. A common whore sold out to the highest bidder by her own father. I’m not worth the dirt under your shoes, and despite what you want, your love could never change that, or make me more than what I am. You fell in love with the wrong girl, Enjolras.”

As I opened the door to leave, not looking back, all he said was, “I refuse to believe that.”


	5. Chapter 5

I wandered the streets of Paris for a little over an hour, with no real clue where I was going, and still trying to wrap my brain around Enjolras’ sudden confession. He loved me. He _loved_ me! Of all the men on the earth to fall in love, especially with me, Henri-François Enjolras was the last one I would have picked. France, the _Patria,_ had always been his love, and no one who knew him had expected that to change.

I took another turn down a familiar street, Rue Saint-Denis, still thinking about him. He was a man of wealth and prestige; surely there were plenty of suitable women in his own class who could attract his attention and make him happy. I suddenly remembered Courfeyrac had told me a rumor that his mama had disowned him when she learned of his heavy involvement with the rebels – thankfully for him, she didn’t know he was their leader – but legally, he was her only remaining heir, so the family’s money would still go to him. If he even came out of this revolt alive, he would keep his rank in society, and therefore have that same access to higher-class women, women who deserved him.

_If he gets out alive…_

I tried to shake off my macabre thoughts, but once they were there, all my brain could see was Enjolras’ broken, bleeding body lying across the barricade that hadn’t even been built yet, still clutching the red flag tightly in his dead fist. The image chilled me to the bone as I looked back up at Café Musain, realizing I had just made a complete circle.

As I prepared to turn on my heel and actually go home, part of me was tempted to go back upstairs, apologize to Enjolras, make amends, and maybe even kiss him again…his lips had been so wonderful to kiss, and he had returned it with so much passion…

 _No, ‘Ponine. Don’t give the man a false hope._ _He kisses you so well because he loves you, but you don’t love him back. You love Marius, even though he loves Cosette and he could never see you the way he sees her. It would only be cruel of you to stick around and do to Enjolras what Marius has done to you._

_In any case, someone has to put ointment on that damn eye of his…_

With a heavy sigh, I walked back in the door.

“Who’s there?” Enjolras’ voice called down threateningly.

“Well, someone’s got to take care of that damn black eye you got from my papa,” I answered shortly.

As Enjolras let out an amused chuckle and said, “Back so soon, eh, ‘Ponine?” I felt the tip of a knife touch my throat, and a heavy hand went over my mouth not long after.

“Not a word from you, you little chit,” Papa hissed in my ear. His tone sent more fear through my heart. “Your boyfriend got me once, but now we’re going home, and you’re going to get a lesson in respect for your elders. I saw what you did to Montparnasse. And you know what? He’s dead now.” He pressed the knife a little harder into my throat, but I could tell I wasn’t bleeding yet. “And you’re going to pay for it.”

“’Ponine?” Enjolras asked, now concerned at my lack of an answer. “You still down there?”

To my horror, he hobbled down the first few stairs to see us.

 

_Enjolras_

 

There were no words to express the rage that coursed through my heart when I walked down the stairs to see an escaped Thénardier with a knife to his daughter’s throat. Éponine was obviously terrified, but refused to give her papa the satisfaction of seeing her quail.

“How much is my girl worth to you, pretty boy?” Thénardier snarled, pressing the knife deeper into her neck. I saw a thin trail of blood, and she flinched, but didn’t cry out.

“Your daughter is worth the world to me, Monsieur,” I answered. I was desperate, but determined not to show it. _If ‘Ponine can keep her resolve, so can I._ “If it’s money you want in exchange for her, I have it. I will pay what I must to keep her from you.”

“Enjolras, don’t – ” She tried to speak, but Thénardier whipped her around and slapped her hard across the face.

“Enough from you!” he snarled at the terrified girl, who couldn’t keep from recoiling now. “Speak one more time, you little slut, and your trunk will be bleeding buckets before you can apologize.”

I knew it wasn’t the first time Éponine had experienced this kind of abuse from her father, but I refused to stand aside and watch it happen when I had the power to prevent it. Drawing the old family pistol I always kept on my left side, I wordlessly pulled back the hammer and aimed it directly between Thénardier’s eyes. “I suggest you tread very lightly, Monsieur,” I said in the most dangerously soft voice I could. “You are on extremely dubious ground.”

He laughed, but my stance remained set in stone. “And what will you do to me, _Monsieur?”_ he asked, over-emphasizing the last word. “Shoot me, and the whole neighborhood will come running. The _gendarmes_ will scoop you up for murder before you can even blink.”

“And your daughter will be here to testify to the _gendarmes_ that I shot you in her defense,” I replied coolly. My father was a lawyer, and taught me everything he knew about the law before I went to university. I had studied it even more extensively after starting the ABC. “Even if a woman’s word is nothing in court, the _gendarmes_ still can’t ignore the word of a female eyewitness at the scene of an alleged crime.” I paused to let that sink in, then said, “Don’t test my knowledge of the law, Monsieur Thénardier. I can guarantee that you will lose.”

I could tell he was positively furious that I had outwitted him again, but in the back of his mind, he was still thinking about negotiating a deal for his daughter. I knew, as did everyone who knew him, that he needed the money. Slowly, he lowered the knife from her neck, but I kept my gun raised. Just in case he decided to try and change his mind. I thought it a miracle that I had managed to keep my arm steady this whole time. It was starting to lose feeling.

“Alright…what are your terms for the girl?” he said.

“For _Éponine,”_ I said, putting heavy emphasis on her name and holding the gun a little tighter, “and a guarantee that you will not contact her or me ever again? 1500 francs. It’s in my wallet upstairs; we can get it now.”

Thénardier’s eyes widened immensely at the generous sum I offered him. It would be enough to keep him afloat for months, no matter how he decided to spend the money. ‘Ponine had been eyeing him the whole time; she could see he was ready to pounce on the deal.

Which he did, moments later.

“Done.”

I nodded, pushing the hammer forward again, but kept the gun up and gestured with it for him to approach me. “Release Éponine, come upstairs with me, and I’ll give you the money.” I looked directly at ‘Ponine and added, “She can follow us if she wishes.” Thénardier looked distrustful for a moment, but slowly walked up the stairs towards me, his knife back at ‘Ponine’s neck. I put the gun to the back of his head when he reached me and hissed, “I _said,_ release her, or the whole deal’s off.” Reluctantly, he lowered his knife from her neck.

The three of us would have made quite a strange sight slowly ascending the stairs – Éponine leading the way, myself bringing up the rear with my gun a little lower, but still pointed at her father’s back as he walked between us. When we reached the room, she sank into a chair by the door, while I guided Thénardier to my wallet, being sure to keep myself between him and my money for as long as I could. Keeping the gun ready, I picked it up with one hand and handed it to Thénardier. “Count out the 1500 francs aloud, then put it back down,” I said brusquely. “Try to rob me of anything more…” I pulled the hammer back again. “Am I perfectly clear?”

Thénardier nodded. “Crystal…sir.”

I nodded back sharply, and then gestured with the gun to the money before pressing the barrel to the back of his head again. “Count it out.”

With visibly shaking hands, Thénardier opened my wallet and slowly took out the bills one by one, dutifully counting aloud with each bill – occasionally with ‘Ponine’s help if he lost track of where he was – until he reached 1500. As the number left his mouth, he set the wallet back down, his hands still trembling.

I lowered the gun from the back of his head and double-checked his counting. Miraculously, he was true to his word. “Go, and don’t let me see you here again,” I said, pointing my gun back down the stairs and guiding him to the door until he was gone.

 

_Éponine_

Part of me almost wished I were dreaming.

The other part was internally jumping for joy.

Enjolras was buying me – and my eternal freedom from Papa – for an amount that I could hardly comprehend. I knew Papa would immediately waste the money – any amount larger than a few sous always burned a hole in his pocket – but he had always loved money too much to turn it down. It was his biggest vice, other than selling out his daughters and buying whores himself when Mama wasn’t around.

I slowly led the two men up the stairs into Enjolras’ room, trying to keep my legs from shaking. If Enjolras hadn’t been holding a gun to his back, Papa would have been yelling at me to move faster, even when I didn’t think I could. Once I sat down next to the door, Enjolras guided my papa to the fattest wallet I’d ever seen. My inner Thénardier immediately started contemplating all the ways to lift it from him when he wouldn’t notice, but I managed to quell those thoughts rather quickly. If Enjolras was going to do this for me, I was determined to let go of the life I had led before. I would be a better person. He loved me; I resolved to be worthy of his love, even if I didn’t return his affections.

Enjolras kept his gun at Papa’s head as Papa counted out the 1500 francs aloud, according to Enjolras’ instructions. When he would lose track of where he was, I would supply him with the next number. I could see his hands were shaking the whole time.

The ordinary greedy gleam was gone from Papa’s eyes, replaced by fear, despite the huge sum Enjolras was giving him. As a child, I never would have thought money could come in amounts that high. It never seemed possible, when I didn’t know where my next meal was coming from. When the money had been handed over, Enjolras guided him back down the stairs, still at gunpoint, until Papa was gone. Enjolras lowered the gun with a sigh and shut and locked the door behind him.

“Why did you do that?” I demanded as soon as he finished.

“Do you wish I hadn’t?”

“…No,” I had to admit. “In fact, I had to keep from doing a victory dance when Papa – Monsieur Thénardier – agreed to the deal.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow when I corrected myself. “Letting go of his name, are we?”

“And his lifestyle. If you’re going to do this for me, then I’m going to change my character. And don’t tell me not to because you love me,” I added, holding up a hand when he tried to interrupt. “You only fell in love with me because you don’t know the life I’ve led. If I told you my secrets, you’d never see me the same way again.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he murmured. When I looked at him in surprise, he said cryptically, “Don’t assume you know my character so well either, _Mademoiselle._ As heartless as I may have seemed just now, I was never going to kill your father.”

Then he turned on his heel and went upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

_Enjolras_

I collapsed onto the bed once I got upstairs, struggling to calm my still-racing heart.

I knew the danger was past, but I had never done anything so frighteningly stupid in my life. I had put on a strong face, for Éponine’s sake, but holding that gun to Thénardier’s head as I bought his daughter away from him had been terrifying. He was a temperamental man – ‘Ponine had testified to that more than once at the ABC – and easily angered. Even though I had been the one with the gun, the tables could have turned on me in an instant. Things still could have gone horribly wrong. Now that the adrenaline rush of the moment was gone, I was able to look at what I had done with a rational mind and see the insanity of it. Even though it had worked, it was a ridiculous plan.

_I must be out of my mind._

What were my true motives for buying her from her father? Did I do it just because I loved her and I wanted to save her from him, or was I trying to bind her to me in some way, and this was the only option available to me? I knew she didn’t love me the way I loved her, and yet I wanted her with me anyway…was that why I did it?

Éponine opened the door and interrupted my reverie, but I immediately said what was on my mind.

“What kind of man am I, ‘Ponine?”

She was obviously confused by my sudden question. “What on earth do you mean?”

I sighed heavily, aggravating my stomach again. _Joly would kill me for what just happened._ I ignored it to say, “I just don’t know my real motives for what happened just now. I don’t know if I did what I did just because I love you and I wanted to save you from him, or if I was trying to bring us together somehow. What kind of man am I?”

She sat down next to me, opening the ointment Joly had left for my eye. “You’re a good man, Enjolras,” she said gently, dabbing it on carefully. “You’re dedicated to what you love, and you’ll do anything to protect it. That takes a lot of strength.”

I gave a weak smile as she tended to me. “I suppose so.”

She smiled back, putting the ointment away and washing off her hands. “Do you need anything else?”

_I need you, Éponine. I need you to love me, and I need you to be my wife and stay at my side forever. God help me, my darling ‘Ponine…I love you more than I can say._

“No, I’ll be fine.”

 

_Éponine_

After I put the ointment on Enjolras’ eye, I went back downstairs to rest and contemplate my new position for a while. I replayed the scene of my salvation from the man I’d had the misfortune to call “father” for nineteen years over and over in my head – I had already memorized Enjolras’ stance from the stairs as he pointed the gun at my father’s head, the way he had stood with his feet slightly apart, the contours of the muscled arm that held the gun perfectly steady. The way his shirt hung on his barely turned torso. The hatred in his eyes as he stared at Thénardier, and the way he had emphasized my name when Thénardier had just called me “the girl,” as if I were worth nothing. Which I wasn’t, to him.

A knock at the door interrupted my reverie.

“Professor!” a frighteningly familiar voice said. “Professor, let me in! I have urgent news!”

 _“Mon Dieu…”_ I whispered as I got up. I opened the door, and my suspicions were confirmed. “Gavroche? Is that really you?”

My little brother’s jaw dropped when he saw me in the doorway. “’Ponine!” he cried joyfully, leaping into my arms. I squeezed his little frame to my chest as tightly as I could. _No wonder I haven’t been seeing you around home, you little rascal. You’ve been collaborating with the_ Amis. “What are you doing here, _sœur aînée?”_ he asked in his sweet, innocent little voice as I set him down.

“I could ask you the same thing, _frère cadet,”_ I laughed, ruffling his hair the way I used to when we were younger. “And who’s the professor you mentioned?”

“That’s what our little friend here calls me,” Enjolras’ voice answered as he came slowly down the stairs, still gingerly cradling his stomach. “I’ve always been the scholarly type, in case you couldn’t tell. Let him in, before someone sees him here.”

I nodded, shutting the door as Gavroche came in; he already seemed right at home. I guessed it wasn’t the first time he’d delivered news to Enjolras at the Café. “What news, _mon petit espion?”_ Enjolras asked in just about the most friendly tone I’d ever heard him use, carefully taking a seat at the table. I helped him to sit, and then sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and watching him for a moment as Gavroche made himself comfortable on the tabletop.

“General Lamarque is dead.”

Enjolras’ eyes grew wide, and he stood up, taking the nine-year-old by the shoulders and staring into his eyes. “Are you sure, Gavroche?” he asked in the most serious tone I’d ever heard him use. He was right in Gavroche’s face, but the boy didn’t flinch.

My little brother nodded with a solemnity I had never seen in his eyes before. “I was hiding behind the house, trying to find out something, when one of the General’s servants came outside with the priest. All I heard the priest say was something about the General confessing his sins and receiving absolution. Then the servant said to the guard, ‘He will be with God before the night is out.’”

Eyes still wide, Enjolras crossed himself and murmured a prayer under his breath – maybe for the General’s soul, maybe for the revolution to come. I’d never learned the Latin he was speaking, and in any case, it went by too quickly for me to hear. “Gavroche, ‘Ponine, fetch the _Amis_ immediately and send them straight here. We have a revolution to start.”


	7. Chapter 7

I would have loved to be able to further question Gavroche about the length of his involvement with the _Amis_ , but I knew now was not the time to do so. Not with that urgent look in Enjolras’ eyes that I couldn’t seem to get out of my head. Just like we used to as kids, we split up who would fetch whom, and soon I was off to find Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, Grantaire, and most painful of all, Marius.

I started with Joly again, since his flat was the closest. I knocked hard on the door. _“Monsieur_ Joly! It’s urgent!” I called out. Thankfully, he answered promptly, as he always did.

“Éponine! Has Enjolras worsened?” He asked worriedly.

I shook my head. “General Lamarque is dead. Enjolras sent Gavroche and me to fetch the _Amis._ He wants you at the Café Musain now.”

Joly paled. “God save us,” he whispered, crossing himself. “Thank you, ‘Ponine,” he said, hastily grabbing his medical bag and book. I nodded, and with that, I hurried off to the tavern to fetch Grantaire. He was more likely to be there, drinking himself into a stupor than in his apartment, drinking himself into a stupor.

Sure enough, when I opened the door, he was at the bar. I raced to him. “Grantaire!” I hissed.

He squinted at me for a moment, trying to recognize me. “’Ponine?” he slurred. “What’re you –?”

I whispered the urgent news in his ear, and he nearly choked on his ale, suddenly sober again. “Mother of God! Are you certain?” This was the side of Grantaire that anyone rarely saw – not drunk out of his skull and actually using his God-given brain. No one knew it, but the man was a brilliant scholar, almost on the level of Enjolras himself. His fatal flaw was his alcoholism, which Enjolras hated about him.

I nodded. “Gavroche just told us, and Enjolras sent the two of us to fetch the _Amis._ Go straight to the Café Musain; he’s waiting for you there, most likely along with Joly and the ones Gavroche has brought by now.”

Grantaire nodded and paid the bartender. “I’ll be right there,” he said, racing out the door. I chuckled to myself at his sudden change in demeanor, and moved on to fetch _Monsieurs_ Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Once I had sent them on their way, I went to Marius’ flat and, mustering my courage, knocked on the door three times.

He opened it, looking surprised to see me. “Éponine?” he asked curiously. “What’s –?”

“General Lamarque is dead,” I said shortly. I wanted to keep this encounter as brief as possible; it was painful enough for me to look at those sweet eyes again. “Gavroche brought the news. Enjolras is summoning the _Amis_ at Café Musain immediately.”

His eyes widened. “By Christ! So soon?”

I nodded. “Get there as soon as you can. I need to find my little brother,” I said, hurrying off.

“Wait, ’Ponine!” he called out, and I turned around. Even though I knew he wasn’t going to be mine, I still couldn’t deny the man anything. He caught up to me on the stairs and said, “Thank you, again…for risking your neck to take me to Cosette. I know your papa would have killed you.”

I was a little surprised at his sudden gratitude, but somehow managed to force a smile. _“Ce n'était rien, Monsieur,”_ I answered, hurrying back down the stairs before he could say anything else. He followed just as quickly and stayed hot on my heels.

By the time he and I arrived at the Café, Gavroche had already summoned the others – Feuilly, Bahorel, Prouvaire, and Lesgle. I looked around the room and saw the others I had brought – Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Joly. The place was already buzzing with activity when Marius stepped in and went over to Enjolras, who sent Gavroche and I a grateful smile for getting everyone there so quickly.

I settled myself into a corner and watched as preparations began.

 

_Enjolras_

“Well, Courfeyrac?” I asked. “Do we have all the guns? Feuilly, Combeferre, our time is running short,” I reminded them when they started quibbling over something ridiculous like women’s rights again. With a sigh, I turned to the alcoholic in the corner. “Grantaire put the bottle down! Do we have the guns we need?”

“Give me brandy on my breath, and I’ll breathe them all to death!” he retorted, causing uproarious laughter.

“In St. Antoine they’re with us to a man!” Courfeyrac called.

“In Notre Dame they’re tearing up the stones!” Combeferre joined in.

“Twenty rifles, good as new!” Feuilly shouted over the chaos. I nodded in acknowledgement to each man as he spoke. Preparations were coming along well, but it was still going to be an uphill battle. We were badly outnumbered, and everyone knew it. Thanks to Gavroche and some of his _gamins_ , we’d been able to stockpile guns and ammunition for weeks in advance – close to a month – but I knew it still wouldn’t be enough, especially not against the National Guard.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to focus on something other than the woman in the corner who was talking animatedly with her little brother. But no matter how hard I tried, all I could think about was what would happen to her if I died in the battle to come. She would have no other choice to go back to her father, and then…and then, I couldn’t bear to think of what my darling ‘Ponine would have to face.

I was suddenly exhausted, but I knew my men needed me to get them focused. I could tell their minds were wandering when they saw mine was. I gathered my remaining strength and leaped on the table to get their attention, sharply calling out, _“Amis de l’abaissé!”_ Within seconds, all eyes in the room were on me, including ‘Ponine’s.

“We all know that the army we fight is a dangerous foe, with the men and the arms that we never could match,” I began. “It is easy to sit here and swat ‘em like flies, but the National Guard will be harder to catch.” I saw several heads nodding. “It is time for us all to decide who we are.” I panted as I looked around the room at them; my orator’s tongue was returning at last. “Have you asked of yourselves, what’s the price you might pay?” I dared to venture. “Is it simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colors of the world are changing day by day…” I paused and took a deep breath. “Red – the blood of angry men! Black – the dark of ages past!” Their faces were starting to grin now; I knew I had them. “Red – a world about to dawn! Black – the night that ends at last!” The room broke into cheers as I leaped down, but I wasn’t done. “The time is here! Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer!”

“Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts!” called Prouvaire.

“But a jubilant shout!” cried Courfeyrac.

“They will come one and all!” shouted Bahorel.

“They will come when we call!” The _Amis_ all shouted together.

 

_Éponine_

I watched Enjolras and the _Amis_ making fevered last-minute preparations for the fight; Gavroche was darting around amongst them running errands when they asked it of him. He told me before Enjolras’ speech that he had been working with the _Amis_ for several months. It seemed that they all took it upon themselves to look after him because of his youth, but especially Courfeyrac. “Don’t worry, ‘Ponine; I don’t let him get into too much trouble,” he laughed. “Your brother is actually one of our most useful spies. He’s very small, and extremely smart.”

“That’s the Thénardier in him that knows how to slip through tight spots,” I laughed also. “He’s always been a clever boy. He can do anything when he sets his mind to it.”

“He actually pulled me out of quite a tight spot a while back,” Courfeyrac confessed.

I looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“I had been cornered by a member of the National Guard on my way home from one of the first meetings of the _Amis._ Gavroche happened to be following me back home because he’d forgotten to ask me something. He was able to sneak up behind the National Guardsman and knock him out so I could get away. Ever since then, I’ve taken it upon myself to ensure no harm comes to him.”

I smiled broadly at Courfeyrac’s story, and admission of keeping watch over my brother. “Thank you, Courfeyrac,” I smiled. “I feel better about his involvement here now that I know you’re keeping an eye on him.”

 

_Enjolras_

 

The energy was still running high from my speech in the Café when I discreetly stepped over to Éponine and Gavroche. “Éponine, a word upstairs?” I asked softly. “It won’t be long.”

She frowned a little in confusion, but I could tell she knew now was not the time to question me. She excused herself from conversation with her brother, and we walked upstairs unnoticed; Gavroche went back to busying himself downstairs. I shut the door quietly and turned back to her, unsure of where to start. “Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned. “If Gavroche is getting to be a problem – ”

“’Ponine,” I said heavily, and she was instantly silent. “If I die tomorrow – ”

“Don’t talk like that,” she said, almost pleading with me. “I don’t want to think about – ”

“I don’t either, but it’s entirely likely that I will. We _need_ to talk about it.” A pause, and she nodded. I began again. “If I die tomorrow, we both know that as an unmarried woman, you’ll have no choice but to go back to your father’s house. If that happens…” I crossed the room to her in a stride and a half and took her hands in mine to say, “I want you to promise me that you’ll never stop running from him. Don’t let him get you, and don’t let him break that independent streak in you that I fell in love with. That would be my last wish for you.”

She seemed surprised by my request, but eventually managed to stutter out, “I-I promise.”

Even when she made her promise, I still didn’t let go of her hands. They were warm and soft to the touch, and I just wanted to hold them. “The other thing I want…” I murmured, looking down at them. They looked so tiny and delicate in my large, calloused ones.

“Anything.”

“One honest, willing kiss,” I said frankly, looking into her eyes.

She gently pulled her hands from my grasp and put them to my face. I held them there as I heard her murmur, “Oh, Enjolras…”

And then, her lips were pressed to mine.

My heart soared as I kissed her back, twining my arms tightly around her thin waist and pulling her to me. I didn’t want the moment to ever end, especially knowing that this could be the last time I ever kissed her. Her mouth was warm and soft, and her tongue was sweet when it slipped between my lips. We kept kissing for only a bit longer before it slowly ended, and I put my forehead to hers. I was already feeling hollow inside without the touch of her lips on mine. “’Ponine…” I whispered again, before I felt her kiss my forehead.

“What is it?” she whispered softly.

“You remember the night you came here, running from your father?”

“How could I ever forget?”

I paused. “Before you knocked on the door…I had been dreaming…”

“About?”  
         “The battle to come,” I whispered. She stiffened against me as my eyes closed; as painful as it was, I wanted to recount it to her. “In my dream, you took a bullet for Marius…and…you died in his arms. I was off to the side, watching and crying. When I had somewhat composed myself…I took your body from his arms and walked behind the hospital…and kept weeping, still holding you…because I couldn’t believe you were gone. That was when I woke up.”

I heard her suck in a quiet breath. “I would take a bullet for him, if it were to come to that.”

“I know,” I murmured, letting her hold me for a moment.

A pause. “Enjolras?”

“Hmm?”

“How…when…did you fall in love with me?”

I sighed. “You had been coming to the ABC’s meetings with Marius for a while when it happened. I watched the way you looked at him…and it was clear to me…you were the loneliest girl in the world,” I said. “And I just wanted to make it go away.”

She sighed softly, hugging me again. “I’ve never been much of a religious woman…” she murmured over my head, “but tonight, I will pray for the safety of the ABC…and you.”

I kissed her forehead as well, my hand resting on her shoulder blade as her body rested against mine. It was a rather intimate touch, considering that we weren’t married, but we were up a flight of stairs behind a closed door, and neither of us cared. This could be the last time we saw each other alive. “Thank you, Éponine…what is your full Christian name?” I asked, realizing that she had never told me.

“Éponine-Marguerite.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Éponine-Marguerite.”

She smiled back up at me, and I thought my heart would burst. “You’re welcome, Henri-François.”

For the first time, I actually smiled when someone called me by my Christian name.


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came.

 _Today’s the day,_ I realized, opening my eyes. _Today, I start the revolution that may be the end of my life._

I reluctantly got up from my makeshift bed and snuck upstairs to get my outfit for the day. The jacket even looked military, right down to the gold buttons on each side. I was able to open the door and get my clothes without disturbing Éponine. Before I left, I took a few moments to look at the woman in my bed – she was still smiling in her sleep, and I wondered if she happened to be seeing me in her dreams. I gently brushed her hair back from her face and whispered, “I love you,” before going back down the stairs to get ready for the day.

By mid-morning, ‘Ponine was up and ready, and the _Amis_ were starting to arrive for the funeral of General Lamarque. They were all dressed in their best, and each looking as close to military as he could. I looked around at noon, the designated meeting time, and looked around the room – Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, myself, Feuilly, Gavroche, Grantaire, Joly, Lesgle, Marius, and Prouvaire. Éponine was wearing a black dress of my sister’s that I had managed to procure for her.

 _“Amis de l’abaissé? Sommes-nous prêts?”_ I asked.

A loud cheer told me they were, and we split up to our designated places around the funeral route.

 

_Éponine_

As soon as the last of the _Amis_ had left for their different stations around Lamarque’s funeral procession, I raced back up the stairs as fast as I could and stripped off the black dress Enjolras had found for me. I was not about to stand by while he and the _Amis_ – who were just as much my _amis_ as they were _amis de l’abaissé_ – put themselves in danger.

I raced to the medicine cabinet and pulled out the bandages Enjolras had used on my face. I wrapped the proper length tightly around my torso several times, before cutting it off and tying it up in the front. Once my breasts were bound, I raced to the closet and pulled out an old shirt and pants of Enjolras’ – thankfully, they didn’t drown me too much – and I pulled my hair up and tucked it into a hat. Before I left the room, I took one last look at myself in the mirror.

I was ready to fight at the barricade.

 

_Enjolras_

My heart was pounding as General Lamarque’s funeral procession started around the corner. I held the huge red banner behind me, careful to keep it concealed in the crowd. Now that the moment was almost upon me, I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to handle this. When I felt my courage start to flag, I remembered ‘Ponine’s terrified face when Thénardier came for her, and she begged me to hide her just a little longer. The anger fueled me, and I resolved that she would never have to live in that fear again, whether I lived or died.

Softly, I began to chant, and slowly, the _Amis_ took up the call:

 

_“Do you hear the people sing?_

_Singing the song of angry men?_

_It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!_

_When the beating of your heart_

_Echoes the beating of the drums,_

_There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes._

As more people joined in, our song grew louder:

_Will you join in our crusade?_

_Who will be strong and stand with me?_

_Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?_

Now was the moment. I raced out into the street as the hearse with Lamarque’s coffin went past me, waving the red flag with all my might, and cried out:

 

_Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!_

Now, the _Amis_ were running all over the funeral procession as our song continued. Red banners were waving everywhere, and I climbed to the top of Lamarque’s hearse, still waving mine.

_Do you hear the people sing?_

_Singing the song of angry men?_

_It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!_

_When the beating of your heart_

_Echoes the beating of the drums,_

_There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes._

Marius soon joined me atop Lamarque’s hearse; Courfeyrac was holding onto the side.

_Will you give all you can give, so that our banner may advance?_

_Some will fall and some will live; will you stand up and take your chance?_

_The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!_

_Do you hear the people sing?_

_Singing the song of angry men?_

_It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!_

_When the beating of your heart_

_Echoes the beating of the drums,_

_There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes.”_

We had rounded the last corner. I stopped waving the flag, already panting with mild exhaustion, adrenaline, and fear when I saw a group of horseback soldiers round the corner. Marius and I drew our pistols and aimed, but we weren’t stupid enough to fire the first shots. We would leave that up to them.

“Draw!” I heard their leader call. Their sabers flashed from their scabbards, then across the faces of the mounted men.

Suddenly, a loud shot interrupted our stand off.

I swore under my breath, grabbing Marius’ sleeve, before I realized it was nowhere near the two of us. A crowd was roaring next to one of the other carriages in the procession, where an elderly woman had been hit by the stray shot.

“She’s an innocent woman!” I heard Combeferre shouting over the chaos. “Murderer!!”

Fear and anger flashed through my heart as I realized two things – _they aren’t afraid of hitting civilians…and that could have just as easily been Éponine._

My rage only grew as I watched as he and Lesgle dragged the poor, terrified soldier out of his hiding place. When they passed me, I executed him without a second thought. _I would have done the same thing if you had hit ‘Ponine, you bastard._

“Charge!” I heard the call from the mounted soldier. I had almost forgotten he was there, until the advance started. Quickly, I took down two soldiers as they rode towards me; Marius knocked off another three.

I leaped down from Lamarque’s hearse and yelled at the top of my lungs, “To the barricade!”

It was time to revolt.

 

_Éponine_

I managed to keep up with the _Amis_ through most of Lamarque’s funeral procession. I stayed closest to the hearse bearing the coffin where Enjolras and Marius stood. Enjolras waving the red flag with all his might, Marius taking up the call at the top of his lungs. All around me, all I could hear were cries of _“Vive le France!” “Vive General Lamarque!”_

As I looked up at them, shouting atop the hearse, I wondered about these two wildly different men – the sweet, mild-mannered one I had loved for years, and his hot-blooded revolutionary friend who was strangely growing on me. My brain was still convinced that I was in love with Marius, but every time I closed my eyes, I could only think about kissing Enjolras at the last meeting of the ABC – the way his hot mouth had tasted even more strongly of that tanginess I couldn’t quite identify, and the way his sweet tongue had cut that tang in the most perfect way. It was the only thing haunting my dreams the night before. Every time I had kissed Enjolras, I had walked away feeling…different. I wasn’t quite sure how, but it had never seemed like a bad feeling.

_Stop it, ‘Ponine. What would Marius say?_

_Marius doesn’t love me. He wouldn’t care._

_Enjolras does. He would._

_Enjolras…_

Even though his behavior towards me hadn’t really changed since he professed his love for me – other than at the last meeting of the ABC, of course – I still had trouble really believing him. Did he truly love me, or was he somehow trying to get me to quit thinking about Marius? One minute, he was keeping his distance from me, and the next, he was asking me for a kiss because he could die the next day.

 _The man is a walking contradiction,_ I decided.

At the same time, I started to realize that something in me was…well, kind of attracted to that.

_Could I be…falling for Enjolras? When I’ve loved Marius for all these years…could I…be in love with Enjolras after all?_

The procession stopped, jerking me out of my reverie. Battle was nearly upon us, and the thought made me catch my breath in my bound chest. I had no fighting experience whatsoever – I’d never even held a gun in my life – and yet here I was, about to fight for the freedom of France.

I was terrified.

 

_Enjolras_

Before long, we were back at the Café Musain, and the barricade was rising rapidly.

As Courfeyrac called out at the top of his lungs, furniture was pouring out the windows of the neighbor’s houses like monsoon rains – a grand piano even came flying out a particularly large window. On the ground, myself, Marius, Joly and Grantaire were organizing the items that had fallen in the most efficient manner possible. We kept in mind that the barricade needed to be structurally sound in addition to being thick to block as much ammunition as possible – possibly even cannon fire. Marius and I even took axes to some of the nonvital staircases inside the Café for extra “padding” of the larger pieces of the structure. We were sure to leave a few Gavroche-sized holes so he could still get in and out when we needed him. The boy was remarkable when it came to squeezing in and out of tight holes – literally and figuratively. Courfeyrac told me that Éponine had credited it to his inner Thénardier. As we worked feverishly piling the furniture into a barricade, our mantra rang out like a work song – “Damn their warnings! Damn their lies! They will see the people rise!”

As the building of the barricade progressed, I realized we would need more spies than just Gavroche. As clever as he was, he couldn’t interact with adults in the way another adult would. My heart sank for a moment. We weren’t nearly as well-prepared as I thought.

“I need a volunteer!” I shouted over the chaos, unsure if anyone even heard me. However, I saw some heads turn towards me, and I continued shouting. “Someone who can find out their plan and when they will attack!”

“I can find out the truth!” an older man stepped up, and I looked at him with wide eyes. “I know their ways, fought their wars, served my time in the days of my youth.”

I nodded my approval. “Your name, sir?”

“Laurent.”

“Welcome to our cause, Laurent,” I smiled. “My name is Enjolras, and you can report whatever you find to me.”

Within an hour, we had secured most of the street in front of the Café; the only holes in the structure were large enough for Gavroche so he could sneak in more guns and ammunition when we would need it. I climbed to the top and planted my red flag in the barricade.

The revolution had truly begun.

 

_Éponine_

Once the _Amis_ were back at the Café Musain, I knew I could jump in and help set up the barricade relatively unnoticed. As the furniture flew out the windows and across the street, I started throwing it into a pile that, for its haste, was remarkably efficient.

Within an hour, most of the work was done. I watched as Enjolras climbed up and placed his red flag firmly in the barricade.

“So it begins,” Joly murmured next to me.

I merely nodded, before I stepped back inside to make sure all the parts of my disguise were still intact; I couldn’t be revealed now that the barricade was up.

“’Ponine?” I heard Gavroche behind me.

I turned around, and my little brother was staring at me in awe. “’Ponine…why are you fighting?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. “If the nine-year-old can be involved in the revolution, surely the 19-year-old can as well,” I laughed, albeit uneasily. I could tell my joke didn’t ease his nerves, though. He was truly afraid I would die. I crossed the floor and knelt in front of him, taking his shoulders. “Gavroche...” I said softly. “You have to understand, the _Amis_ are all just as much my friends as yours. I believe in a republic as much as all of you do. Plus…I couldn’t bear to lose Marius.”

 _Or Enjolras,_ I added in my brain.

“But Éponine…” Gavroche started, clearly trying not to cry. “ _You_ could die!”

“Oh, ‘Vroche…don’t cry, _mon chère,”_ I said softly, hugging my younger brother close to me. “Listen to me,” I said seriously, looking into his eyes and trying to reflect the seriousness and urgency Enjolras had the night before when Lamarque died. “You _can’t_ tell anyone I’m here in disguise, alright? They’d send me back to Papa, and that’s the _last_ thing I want. Then…then, I would die. Can you promise me you’ll keep my secret, ‘Vroche?” I asked softly.

He took a moment, but then nodded. “I promise, ‘Ponine.”

I smiled at him and hugged him again. “Thank you, little brother. This is important to me, too.”

 

_Enjolras_

Not long after the construction of the barricade finished, I was talking with Joly and Combeferre about a makeshift hospital inside the Café when I felt a tug at the bottom of my coat.

“Gavroche?”

“I need to talk to you, Professor,” he said urgently.

I was confused, but the look in the little boy’s eyes told me now was not a good time to be skeptical. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said. The student doctors nodded and returned to their plans as Gavroche led me aside. “What’s with all this secrecy, Gavroche?”

“’Ponine’s here,” he said, almost on the verge of tears.

My heart nearly stopped with fear, and I my eyes grew wide. “No…no, not your sister, Éponine Thénardier?” I asked hoarsely.

The boy nodded. “She made me promise not to tell, but…I’m scared she might die, Professor…” he trembled.

I put a hand on his shoulder, trying not to shake, myself. “Don’t worry about her, Gavroche. If you point her out to me, I’ll see to it myself that she doesn’t get hurt.”

He seemed a little happier with that idea, and discreetly pointed to the form of a student sitting against the outside wall of the Café. When I looked closely at the face, I recognized Éponine’s distinctive profile. I sighed to myself, and I knew I was failing to hide my frustration with her stubbornness and my fear for her life. _Damn it, ‘Ponine…why can’t you stay away from trouble?_

“That’s not the only reason I brought you over here, though,” Gavroche murmured.

I turned back to him. “What else?”  
         “You remember the man who volunteered to spy for us?”

My brain pulled up an image of the middle-aged man who had stepped forward when I called for a volunteer. “Laurent?” I asked as I remembered his name, and that he had only just left the barricade a few minutes previously.

Gavroche nodded. “Don’t believe him. He’s really an Inspector.”

Again, my heart nearly stopped. _“Mon Dieu…”_

“His name’s Javert,” the boy went on. “I recognize him from a few days ago in the market. He’s after Cosette’s papa.”

“Cosette, Marius’ lovebird?” I asked, to more confirmation from my little spy. I shook my head to myself in disbelief. Things were already not going the way I planned them to be. First, we were ill-equipped to fight the National Guard, despite months of stockpiling, then the woman I loved was risking her own death for reasons I couldn’t possibly discern, and now, my newest spy was a double agent. I heaved a sigh and looked back at the best informant a revolution could have asked for, heaving a sigh and forcing a smile. “Thank you, Gavroche. Will you…unceremoniously inform the others when he comes back?”

The boy grinned. “Of course, Professor.”

I grinned back, already feeling better. _“Merci, mon petit espion.”_

 

_Éponine_

As night fell at the barricade, a few of the students took up watch on the top to wait for our spy to come back. Gavroche came and took a seat next to me as the students started settling in.

“How are you feeling, ‘Vroche?” I asked softly as I put an arm around his shoulders; I talked softly to ensure that no one but him heard the feminine register of my voice. He shrugged nonchalantly, but I could read my brother better than that. I knew he was scared, and I squeezed him a little tighter. “Hey, everything will be fine. I promise,” I smiled at him.

“For you, maybe,” he muttered. “I know the Professor bought you away from Papa. Now ‘Zelma’s trying the same thing, but with Brujon.”

I felt my eyes widen in shock. _How did he know…?_

However, before I could question my brother further, Joly shouted out over the barricade, “He’s back!”

Immediately, several guns went up, and several hammers pulled back as the man in front of us confirmed his identity.

“Listen my friends, I have done as I said,” he said. “I have been to their lines, I have counted each man; I will tell what I can.” Tentatively, Enjolras and the others lowered their guns as he continued. “Better beware – they have armies to spare, and the danger is real. We will need all our cunning to bring them to heel.”

Enjolras gestured for him to be let into the barricade. “Have faith!” he encouraged. “If you know what their movements are, we’ll spoil their game. There are ways that a people can fight; we shall overcome their power!”

_Ever the optimist, that one._

“I have overheard their plans,” the man said breathlessly as the _Amis_ gathered around him, pressing in to listen. “There will be no attack tonight. They intend to starve you out before they start a proper fight…concentrate their force…hit us when it’s light.”

“Liar!” Gavroche shouted out next to me.

All eyes turned to my little brother in astonishment as he started to sing a mocking song of our childhood – one he had often used on Cosette – but with new words:

 

_“Good evenin’, dear Inspector,_

_Lovely evenin’, my dear._

_I know this man, my friends – his name’s Inspector Javert!_

_So don’t believe a word he says, ‘cause none of it’s true!_

_This only goes to show what little people can do.”_

“Bravo, little Gavroche, you’re the top of the class!” Courfeyrac praised as he and Grantaire held the traitor back.

“So what’re we gonna do with this snake in the grass?” Feuilly asked, holding up his rifle at the Inspector.

“Take this man and throw him in the tavern in there,” Enjolras ordered, gesturing with his head to the inside of the Café. “The people will decide your fate, _Inspector_ Javert!”

The man’s next words chilled us all to the bone. “Shoot me now or shoot me later, every schoolboy to his sport!” he yelled, struggling against the iron clutches of Courfeyrac and Grantaire. “Death to EACH and every traitor; I renounce your people’s court!”

Only Marius seemed undisturbed enough to speak. “We keep looking forward!” he shouted.

 

_Enjolras_

I had never been more grateful for Gavroche than that first night at the barricade. True to my request to unceremoniously expose Inspector Javert as a spy, he sing-songily taunted the man with his true identity. I was both shocked at the boy’s audacity and thankful he had tipped me off ahead of time. I was smart enough to let Courfeyrac and Grantaire handle him. They were two of the strongest members of the _Amis_ , even though Grantaire was drunk more than half the time.

After I ordered him thrown into the tavern, he started putting up a fight. Courfeyrac and Grantaire managed to get him over the threshold of the building, but then he got free and started swinging punches like mad at everyone who approached him. One of them hit me in the lip – the same spot as when Thénardier punched me – and I fell back for a moment, temporarily stunned. My first wound hadn’t even completely healed; I was certain he had opened it up again.

To my horror, he took advantage of the momentary pause in the fight and raced to the corner and grabbed up a thick black bar that one of us had pulled off a window in the construction of the barricade. He managed to hit Feuilly and Bahorel in the head with it before I wrested it from his grip and knocked him to the floor with it.

For a moment, all of us stood there panting.

Then, we heard sound of marching.

Slowly, I looked up and turned my head. Neither Gavroche nor my ears had betrayed me.

Battle was coming.


	9. Chapter 9

_Éponine_

The moment I heard the marching, I knew we were in trouble. We were outgunned, outmanned – it was common knowledge. Everyone knew we would all likely die tonight.

As Enjolras stepped out of the Café after the fight with Javert, he was clearly not yet thinking straight. I held out a gun, which he automatically took without even looking at me. Marius was calling the men to their positions, and on impulse, I picked up a gun and snuck into an unmanned spot on the barricade. I looked between Joly and Courfeyrac to determine how to properly hold the gun, adjusting my grip until it looked similar to a combination of theirs.

And then came the most terrible part.

The waiting.

 

_Enjolras_

 

I stepped out the doors of the Café, still in a bit of a haze, as everyone outside was scrambling around. I was vaguely aware of someone handing me a gun, but I didn’t notice who it was.

“To your positions, to your positions!” Marius was hissing irately as I climbed to my spot on the top of the barricade, where I had planted the red flag. Marius had basically become my second in command; all of the _Amis_ gave the same credit to his word as they did mine.

The soldier’s voice calling cadence rang out clear as they rounded the corner. The air itself seemed to coil with the tension, and every man on the barricade was holding his breath. I was vaguely aware of windows and shutters closing above us, but I didn’t take my gaze from the advancing soldiers. They were all that existed now.

“Hold your fire,” I heard Marius murmuring. “Hold your fire…”

“Front pack, kneel!”

“Save your gunpowder…”

“Take aim!”

“Get down,” he added quietly, and everyone did so.

“Who’s there?!” the soldier shouted.

Marius looked to me; everyone knew this was a question I would answer. I wet my lips to speak and yelled, “French Revolution!”

A brief pause.

“FIRE!” came the first call.

Then all hell broke loose.

 

_Éponine_

It was just how I had always imagined the Second Coming of Christ as a child, but much worse.

Fire and explosions everywhere. The screams of injured and dying men. A hail of guns from above us on the barricade, all of which needed reloading. The constant calls of “Take aim!” “Fire!”

Suddenly, a new, terrified cry from Combeferre – “They’re coming over the barricade!”

“Get back!” Joly screamed, his face a picture of horror as he stood against the wall of the Café Musain next to me, pistol still drawn.

As I watched from below, I watched Marius shoot one soldier directly in the stomach as he tried to climb the barricade, while Enjolras grabbed the barrel of another’s gun and headbutted him off. I used the backs of various members of the ABC to propel myself along the wall of people. Soon, I was at the side of the barricade, and climbing the steps up. I vaguely heard a voice in the distance urgently yelling my name – was it Gavroche? Likely so; it was almost effeminate in register, but I was the only woman here, and I knew he didn’t want me to be here…

Suddenly, I realized that I didn’t have my gun…

 

_Enjolras_

I was horribly unlucky to look to my right when I did.

In the heat of battle, it was hard to tell what was going on. Each flash of firing my gun left me nearly blind, so I resorted to minimal physical combat where I could. I knew it was the riskier choice to make, but I figured I was better off being able to see my opponent’s next move.

To my horror, I saw Éponine climbing the barricade, unarmed.

_Damn it, Éponine! You shouldn’t have come here in the first place; now you’re going to get yourself killed!_

“Éponine, what are you doing?!” Gavroche screamed. “Look out!” When I heard that, I looked up and saw a soldier aiming his gun at her head.

“Éponine! NO!” I bellowed, trying to make my way to her.

_No. Please God, not her. Don’t take her from me. Not ‘Ponine. Anyone but her._

My macabre wish was granted, and when I saw the one He took, I wanted to be sick. Gilbert-Mattheiu Courfeyrac – my best friend, and the only other man who carried my secret – beat me to her, and turned the soldier’s barrel to himself at the last second before the gun fired.

Out of nowhere, Marius had grabbed a flaming torch and small barrel of gunpowder. “Fall back –!” he started to yell, before knocking an approaching soldier in the head with the torch. “Fall back, or I burn the barricade!”

“Blow it up, and take yourself with it!” the soldier leading the group yelled back.

“Christ!” Joly whispered below the barricade, crossing himself. I saw Courfeyrac sinking down against the side of the barricade, cradling his stomach, and I wished I were the one down there, dying of my wounds. _Dear Lord…forgive me for this, for I can never forgive myself._

“And myself with it…” Marius whispered, ever so slowly lowering the torch to the gunpowder.

“Back! Back!” the soldier yelled. Soon, they had all retreated, and we had won the first battle. I carefully pried the torch from Marius’ hand and took it away, dousing it as Combeferre stared screaming at him, “Marius, what were you thinking? You could have gotten us all killed! My life’s not yours to risk, Marius!”

But all of that faded out when the rain started falling, and I saw ‘Ponine and Courfeyrac.

 

_Éponine_

The whole battle went by so fast that I didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes before Marius threatened to blow up the barricade. In any case, he forced a retreat, and when I looked down, Courfeyrac was dying.

I let out a cry as I raced down the side of the barricade and carefully picked him up into my arms. “Courfeyrac…” I murmured, looking for a way to stem the tide of blood flowing from his chest and stomach. He just smiled sadly at me when I couldn’t find a way to save him. “But…why?” I asked.

“Because…” he whispered, before gasping for breath. “Enjolras…he loves you, ‘Ponine…”

“I know,” I whispered back, holding back tears. “I know.”

He nodded, as if satisfied that he had fulfilled a duty. “S-someone has to…w-watch over Gavroche…f-for me…now,” he chuckled softly, lamely, as his eyes started to stare into space.

“I’ll do it,” I desperately promised the dying man, gently squeezing his hand. “I swear to you, I’ll make sure he stays alright.” If it was the only way I could give him peace as he died, I would make a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

Enjolras knelt on his other side, glancing over his wounds with a worried face. “Courfeyrac…hold on, _ami,”_ he murmured, gesturing for Combeferre.

Suddenly, Courfeyrac’s already-glassy eyes widened, and he started pointing to the sky, grabbing blindly for a hand, which Enjolras took. “Enjolras…Enjolras, I can see Him!”

I could see that the almost-childlike words were like knives in Enjolras’ soul. “S-see who, Courfeyrac?” he whispered, even though he knew the answer.

But he would never get an answer. The medical student knelt in front of Courfeyrac as he arrived and put two fingers to his wrist. “No pulse,” he murmured, crossing himself. “Courfeyrac is with God.”

“He is the first to fall…” Enjolras murmured as Joly picked up the corpse from Éponine’s arms. “The first to fall upon this barricade.”

“We fight here in his name,” Prouvaire said softly.

“He will not die in vain,” Grantaire said.

“He will not be betrayed,” said Marius.

Enjolras promptly turned away and started to pray, murmuring more things in Latin as his tears continued to fall. I caught Marius by the shoulder as he approached me and whispered, “What’s he saying?” Marius was the most educated of the _Amis_ behind Enjolras; if anyone would be able to translate for me, it would be him.

“He’s praying for the repose of Courfeyrac’s soul…and forgiveness for himself,” Marius murmured solemnly. We were both a little confused as to why Enjolras was praying for forgiveness; I doubted it was because he had just killed several men. Marius briefly crossed himself when he mentioned the dead man. His face was clearly concentrated on listening to Enjolras and translating for me. “Now he’s quoting the book of Job. Chapter 1, verse 21 – ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither. The LORD gave and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of.’”

I shook my head in awe. “How does his faith endure something like this? He and Courfeyrac were extremely close…I don’t understand.”

Marius put a hand on my shoulder; I was surprised at his forwardness. “Trials like this are simply another way in which our Lord tests our devotion to Him,” he answered. “The way Enjolras sees it, he’s using his sorrow for Courfeyrac to renew his devotion to God. Job said the same words when he lost everything he had, and at the end of his suffering, when he stayed an upright man, God restored his fortunes twofold.”

I frowned. “It still doesn’t quite make sense to me. Isn’t he angry at God for taking Courfeyrac too soon?”

Marius sighed. “Grief is a complicated beast, ‘Ponine. Part of him is angry with God, almost certainly. Courfeyrac didn’t need to die this soon; he was a young man and could have lived a full life. But the other part of him knows that the Lord’s plan isn’t always what we want…but in the end, it works out better than ours.”

I was still rather skeptical, but I was in no mood to get into a religious debate with Marius in the middle of a thunderstorm. Instead, I slowly approached the man kneeling at the foot of the barricade, who was shaking with the force of his repressed sobs. He didn’t look up as I walked to him; I wondered if he knew I was even there. I could see the golden crucifix hanging out of the open collar of his shirt, trembling as he rocked back and forth on his knees.

At first, I thought he was still speaking Latin, but as I got closer, I heard that he was sobbing. He was letting go. My heart broke for him, and hardly knowing what I was doing, I knelt next to him and wrapped my arms around his trembling shoulders, not unlike how he had for me when I had a meltdown after kissing him in the kitchen. Thunder pealed as he leaned the side of his head into my chest and kept crying as I held him. I wondered if he was even aware of my presence. As the rain picked up, I pushed his wet hair back from his forehead and held him. It wasn’t long before I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Bring him inside, before you both catch your death of cold in this rain,” Combeferre murmured to me.


	10. Chapter 10

_Enjolras_

It was the first time in my life that I regretted seeing a sunrise.

When my eyes opened, I was vaguely aware that they were still crusted with salt from my tears for Courfeyrac’s death. The only things I remembered from after the battle last night were kneeling at the foot of the barricade and praying – I prayed for the revolution, for my best friend’s soul and for my own redemption for sending him to God too soon.

I don’t know how long Éponine knelt with me and held me in the rain as I wept, before Combeferre brought us inside, insisting we would both catch our deaths of cold if we stayed outside in the rain. I remembered Feuilly wrapping us in warm towels, and Joly ordering us to sit by the fire until we were dry. I stared blankly into it for those several hours; not once did I speak. I knew Éponine was worried, but I couldn’t get myself out of that state. Joly deemed us fit to sleep around 1:00 in the morning.

As I became more aware of my surroundings, I noticed I was on a cot in the makeshift hospital, covered by a blanket. I also noticed that there was a warm back against my torso, and that my right arm was draped over a narrow set of hips. _Too narrow to be a man’s…_

It was Éponine.

I loved her, but that morning, I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss her or kick her for coming to the barricade. _Damn foolish woman._ I decided to just chew her out instead.

“That was damn foolhardy of you, showing up here last night,” I hissed in her ear when I was sure she was awake.

“Good morning to you too, soldier,” she grumbled irritably.

Normally I would have been amused by her retort – she’d always been a cheeky woman – but this wasn’t a normal moment by any means. I turned her around to face me. “I’m serious, Éponine. My best friend died last night taking a bullet that was meant for you. You _need_ to stay out of danger today. I’ve already lost Courfeyrac, and I’m likely to lose everyone else I love. I can’t lose you, too.”

Her face grew hard; I could tell immediately she wasn’t going down without a fight. “Enjolras, I’m not standing idly by while you risk your life. If you’re going to fight, then I am too. I may be only a kid, but I’m hard to scare. My life has been cold and dark except for you and the ABC, but I’m not afraid of anything except losing that light.”

“Damn it, woman,” I growled. “You’re being foolish.” She clearly bristled, but I wasn’t finished. “You got yourself in enough danger by showing up here in disguise, and climbing the side of the barricade unarmed was flat-out stupid. You’re lucky Courfeyrac was there to be the sacrificial lamb, or you’d be dead. You talk big, Éponine, but you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Do you?” she shot back angrily, pulling away from me. “You say lots of pretty things about _liberté, fraternité, égalité,_ _Monsieur,_ but are you really willing to die for them? Or do you just use your pretty words to get everyone else killed?”

Fury overcame me, and I somehow resisted the strong urge to slap her across the face. “If I have to die to free this earth from tyranny, I will,” I said through tightly clenched teeth. “I love you more than life itself, Éponine-Marguerite Thénardier, but I loved the _Patria_ first. And if I have to leave you behind for her sake, I will.” Without looking at her again, I silently got up from the cot we were sharing and got dressed.

“You might be charming, Henri-François Enjolras,” I heard her say quietly as she stood, “but you really are capable of being terrible.”

“Have you ever considered that it’s why I’m the leader of the ABC?” I answered, shrugging on my jacket. “I can charm anyone into anything, but when I want to, I can execute a man without a second thought or any guilt. I did it just yesterday on the way to the barricade.”

“I know. I watched you,” she said softly.

“And if a soldier had shot you, I would have done the same thing.”

Then I picked up my gun, turned around, and walked away as a sharp, two-fingered whistle from Joly woke up the rest of the barricade.

It was day two of revolution.

As I climbed the back of the barricade, I heard Marius’ voice – “Enjolras! The rain has damaged the gunpowder. We’re low on ammunition.”

“We’re the only barricade left,” I said flatly.

“What?”

“We’re the only ones left,” I repeated. Gavroche had been around Paris, and brought me the news in private just before bed last night, when the soldiers were already advancing. I knew they were waiting for us on the other side of the barricade already. I sighed as everyone else gathered around; they had heard my last sentence, and looked at me with wide eyes.

“The people have not stirred…we are abandoned by those who still live in fear,” I said softly with a sigh. “Let us not waste lives. Let all who wish to…go from here.”

I looked around to see who would leave. Surely some of them would – they all had families, friends, lovers who missed them and wanted them home safely. Surely they’d take my first invitation to go home – especially Joly, who had just married his longtime mistress, Muschietta. She’d be worried sick about him.

No one moved.

Then, from the top of the barricade, I heard Gavroche:

 

_“Do you hear the people sing?_

_Singing the song of angry men?_

The _Amis_ began to join him:

 

_“It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!_

_When the beating of your heart_

_Echoes the beating of the drums,_

_There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes.”_

 

As they started to take up their places on the barricade, Marius, Grantaire, and Combeferre surrounded me.

“Enjolras, we _need_ more ammunition,” Combeferre was saying.

“I’m going to the other barricades. There are dead bodies there, dry ammunition,” Marius said.

“The gunpowder’s wet through,” Grantaire added.

No one noticed Gavroche slipping through the cracks of the barricade.

 

_Éponine_

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, arguing with Enjolras like that upset me a great deal, especially when I crossed the line and accused him of trying to get everyone killed. I had been trying to make him mad, and it had worked – more than I intended. My revelation on the way to the barricade yesterday had worried me enough – I had never liked change, but I positively hated the idea of falling in love with a man other than Marius when I had loved him for so long – even if the other man was Enjolras, and even when Marius could never love me back.

All the same, I still found myself inexplicably attracted to Enjolras – and what scared me the most was that it grew day by day. Even when we got as mad at each other as we did in Joly’s hospital that morning, all I wanted was to hold him, and feel his body close to mine.

It was positively maddening.

All the same, even if I didn’t want to admit it, I knew he was right, and I didn’t want to cause him undue pain when he’d already lost his best friend, the only other man who had known his deepest secret – his love for me. I knew he probably didn’t even want to get up that morning. Not after Courfeyrac’s death.

When he went outside and shut the door behind him, I didn’t try to follow him. I watched through the window as Marius said something I didn’t catch. Some brief dialogue followed, and I managed to catch a few snippets of what Enjolras was saying – “have not stirred…abandoned…still live in fear…waste lives…go from here.”

_He’s letting people go? It must be bad._

I heard Gavroche start another chorus of their revolution song, before a mini-conference began around Enjolras.

I noticed Gavroche slip through the front of the barricade.

That was the last straw, and I went outside.

 

_Enjolras_

As I was listening to my men informing me about things I already knew, I heard a childlike voice from the front of the barricade that sounded horribly familiar.

 

_“Little people know,_

_When little people fight._

_We may look easy pickin’s,_

_But we got some bite!”_

 

Gavroche had gone through the barricade, and was going for more ammunition. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the little boy. Courfeyrac wasn’t here to watch him, and ‘Ponine would never forgive me if I got her little brother killed. It was clear that the two of them were very close.

 

_“So never kick a dog,_

_Because he’s just a pup!”_

 

She appeared through the door of the Café, looking distressed. A loud warning shot rang out after he finished the phrase. The whole barricade held its breath, but Gavroche was still there. Combeferre was already on top of the barricade, hissing the little boy’s name and telling him to come back. Gavroche only grinned the innocent little grin that made my heart want to split in two.

He was going to get himself killed; there was no way around it. If someone left the barricade to try and save him, they would get shot too. Either way, it would be a bloodbath for us.

Either way, Éponine’s little brother was going to die on my watch.

 

_“We’ll fight like twenty armies,_

_And we won’t give up!”_

 

She stood up a little and saw how close he was to the soldiers. Her eyes widened and she nearly screamed, attempting to lunge over the barricade for him. “My God – Gavroche!” she screamed, struggling as Grantaire and Combeferre held on to her. “Let me get to him! He’s my brother; I have to get to –!”

A single shot rang out, but Gavroche was still standing, though clearly wounded. He was still reaching for the ammunition.

 

_“So you better…run for cover…_

_When the pup…grows…”_

Another shot, and he fell.

 

_Éponine_

I screamed like I had never screamed before.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. First Courfeyrac, now his little charge – my brother, Gavroche Thénardier. When he fell, I noticed Grantaire and Combeferre instantly let go of me, and I took advantage of the time to sprint around the barricade, praying it wasn’t true.

But my wish wasn’t granted. My brother’s prone little form was still lying there on the ground, his eyes glassed over with death. I looked out at the soldiers in front of the barricade as I scooped his tiny body into my arms, grimacing inside at how horribly light he was. One of the men was slowly standing up, as if he was just realizing what they had just done.

I took Gavroche around to the other side of the barricade, now weeping freely. My body arched over his as I set him down on the ground, hardly able to breathe for crying. Combeferre crouched over me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and trying to pull me off Gavroche’s body.

“You of the barricades, listen to this!”

At the sound of a soldier’s voice, the barricade became a living, breathing organism – all our heads shot towards the source in perfect synchronization, and our heaving breath was in an instant, the same.

“The people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, no chance at all! Why throw your lives away?”

Enjolras was struggling to catch his breath, but looked to Marius, whose eyes reflected the purest hatred I’d ever seen. It scared me to see that look in Marius’ eyes, even though my little brother had just died at this man’s hands.

Enjolras nodded to him, and answered. “Let us die facing our foes…make them bleed while we can…”

“Make them pay through the nose,” Combeferre whispered.

“Make them pay for every man!” I cried. Combeferre squeezed my shoulders gently and rubbed my arm, trying to comfort me.

“Let others rise to take our place!” Enjolras called. “UNTIL THE EARTH IS FREE!”

 

_Enjolras_

I couldn’t believe it. They had killed the little boy. I’d never been able to put much past the National Guard, but I never thought they’d sink to the level of killing a child.

To my dying day, I will never forget the sound of anguish Éponine made when he fell. It was more than a scream of grief for losing her much-beloved little brother – to me; it was a cry for the injustice of France to be remedied. The sound rent my heart in two. I was numb with horror as she brought him back around, sobbing. Combeferre tried lamely to comfort her, but we all knew it wouldn’t work. She was completely inconsolable, and I thought it would kill me to see her in such deep anguish that I couldn’t fix. _I didn’t know how to stop him, ‘Ponine…I’m so sorry._

“You of the barricades, listen to this!”

My head shot up.

“The people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, no chance at all! Why throw your lives away?”

I weighed the situation carefully. Gavroche was dead, and now we were being given an ultimatum. If we fought, we would all die. If we surrendered, we would rot in prison without a trial. When I saw the hatred in Marius’ eyes, I knew what to say.

“Let us die facing our foes…make them bleed while we can…”

“Make them pay through the nose,” Combeferre whispered.

“Make them pay for every man!” Éponine cried.

“Let others rise to take our place!” I shouted, my passion for the revolution now further fueled by Gavroche’s death. I spoke of his generation. “UNTIL THE EARTH IS FREE!”

Our fate was sealed. We would all surely die now.

The commander took a deep breath. “CANNONS!”

My stomach dropped. _At least it’ll be a quick end,_ I thought as we raised our guns.

“Quick as you come, men! Look lively!” he yelled as the cannons were rolled around the corner.

“Far right first!” Marius ordered.

“Wait for it, wait for it…!” Feuilly yelled.

“FIRE!” I cried.

Almost two dozen short thunderclaps sounded erratically as we fired on the first cannon. However, our aims were all true, and every man around it fell. Without delay, we threw down our rifles and got new ones as the others were reloaded.

“They’re bringing in replacements!” Marius warned.

“Second cannon, FIRE!” I shouted again, and the process repeated.

“Take aim, FIRE!” The commander shouted, and their rifles returned the volley. As I ducked behind the barricade, I noticed that the cannons were almost fully loaded, and my heart sank with fear. I had just condemned us all to death, and God only knew how quick or slow it would be.

“There’s more men! There’s more men, Enjolras!” Combeferre screamed, pointing towards the soldiers’ lines.

“Cannons ready!” a soldier called.

“FIRE!” the commander yelled.

All hell broke loose when the cannons shot. The world seemed to shatter all around us, and I felt a shockwave go through my body. I was already covered in blood from the last two days – not all of it my own –and when a cannonball hit the mattress in the barricade, feathers went flying everywhere, sticking to all of us. I knew we had to attempt a retreat if we wanted any chance, but the Café Musain was out of the question. As we tried to back away from the top of the barricade, I watched Bahorel and Lesgle succumb to bullet wounds.

“Advance!” he shouted.

_We’re doomed._

The soldiers started climbing the top of the barricade, similar to the first night. I shot one or two as they advanced, and Marius had a saber in his hand that he used to slice a few through the gut. More and more men were falling around me; dead or wounded, I couldn’t tell. I managed to grab Feuilly and Combeferre, as the former was pounding on the door of the house nearby. “Open the door, please!” he shouted. I looked up; the woman in the window was looking down on us with fear in her eyes, slowly closing the shutters.

“Please!” I screamed. It didn’t take long for us to give up, and run inside the Café Musain.

“We need to barricade the door!” Combeferre screamed.

“There’s no time!” I grabbed him, Feuilly and Prouvaire, and the four of us sprinted upstairs, doing our best to destroy the staircase as we went. We barely missed the National Guard as they came in behind us. Desperate, we grabbed empty wine bottles that had shattered on the floor in the first cannon blast and started throwing broken glass at the soldiers. We wounded several; I could tell from the cursing that followed. When there was at last a lull, we started to pant hard, pointing our guns at the floor where we knew they were below us. All of us knew the inevitable had almost arrived.

 _“Amis…”_ I gasped. “I’m…so – ”

Before I could apologize, about twelve gunshots rang through the floor, and all three of my comrades were suddenly dead. I felt several bullets go through my feet and into my legs – one almost up to my left hip – and I staggered and gasped in pain, holding the spot.

Suddenly, I remembered Éponine.

I hadn’t laid eyes on her since she brought the dead Gavroche back around from the front of the barricade…I had no idea if she was dead or alive, and I was terrified of what might have happened to her. I felt the tears starting to leave my eyes. I had now lost everything I had to live for. I fell to my knees, weeping freely.

_Oh, Éponine…I love you, and I wish I had told you again. I love you, and I wish we hadn’t fought. I love you, and I wish I wasn’t about to die. I love you…and that’s all._

Then the pain overwhelmed me, and the world went black.

 

_Éponine_

Being in a battle had been bad enough.

Listening to one as I ran away from it was even worse.

As soon as I heard the commander shout for cannons, I had to run. There was no way I could stand a chance against soldiers with cannons, and I wasn’t ready to join Gavroche just yet. Besides, Enjolras would have wanted me out of danger anyway. I managed to slip unnoticed through the back of Café Musain, carrying Gavroche’s body.

I wasn’t ten feet out the door when the ground seemed to shake underneath me.

_The cannons…oh, Enjolras, please live. Please don’t leave me now. You’re the only man who’s ever loved me, despite what I am, what I’ve been…I can’t lose you now._

_Because…I finally love you too._

As I realized the truth of that heartbreaking confession, I fell to my knees and wept in the streets, still cradling my dead brother. I did love Enjolras after all. I loved him, and he was going to die today, and I would never see him again. He was strong and brave, but there was no way he could survive against trained soldiers with cannons. The ABC was doomed.

After I managed to regain my composure, I tried to contemplate what to do. I had nowhere to go, and I was carrying my dead younger brother through the streets. Normally, I’d go back to my parents’ house with him, but that wasn’t an option. I had promised Enjolras that I would never stop running from Thénardier, and I wasn’t going to go back on that when he was likely dead or dying.

Then I remembered a nearby meadow, one of Gavroche’s favorite spots when we were children. _I’ll bury him there,_ I decided.

 

About an hour and a half later, I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked at my handiwork. There was now a small mound of freshly turned earth and a cross I had made by tying two twigs together with part of my shirt. It was so hard to leave him there, but I had a feeling that when I recovered Enjolras’ body – for I was determined to do so – I would do the same thing again.

_What would Enjolras have you do right now, ‘Ponine?_

_He would have me move on…_

_Goodbye, my sweet little brother. I’ll see you in Heaven._

With an effort, I turned around and, without looking over my shoulder, walked back to the barricade.


	11. Chapter 11

_Enjolras_

Pain.

All I remembered was blinding pain.

I could see blurry faces moving past me, but I couldn’t hear anything, and I couldn’t tell if I was dead or alive. All I knew to be certain was that my whole body hurt like hell, and I wanted Éponine. I wanted her so much…I knew she would make the pain go away just with a smile, and with a kiss, I’d be well again.

Gradually, things started coming back to me – Lamarque’s funeral, building the barricade, Courfeyrac’s death, arguing with Éponine the next morning, Gavroche’s death, the second battle at the barricade…the last thing I remembered was shooting pain in my legs when the soldiers shot at us through the floor of the Café. I wondered if Marius had made it to his lovebird…what had her name been? She would surely be missing him the way I missed ‘Ponine.

That was when I noticed my whole body was on fire, but someone was putting a cool rag to my forehead. “Hold on, _ami,”_ I heard a familiar voice saying quietly, soothingly. “You’re going to get well.” I opened my mouth in a lame attempt to reply, but Joly closed it. “You’re not ready to try and talk yet. I removed eight bullets from you and closed three saber wounds, two of which were very close to your lungs. Since then, you’ve had a ridiculous fever that’s nearly killed me to keep down. You’re very lucky to be alive, Enjolras.”

I contented myself with a deep sigh and relaxed into the bed.

_Bed?_

Yes, I was in a ridiculously comfortable bed, and the nightclothes I was wearing were soaked through with sweat. I was covered in the largest number of blankets I’d ever seen on one bed in my life. I looked at Joly, my eyes clearly questioning. “You’ve been unresponsive for a full week. After I disinfected and closed up all your wounds, you got a bad fever and almost died. You were delirious for several days, despite the fact that you were unconscious. It still hasn’t quite broken. I’ve got almost every blanket I own on you, trying to make you sweat it out. It seems to be working; your temperature’s taken a steep dive,” he explained.

I was still breathing heavily, trying to wrap my brain around what Joly was saying. _It’s been a week? Anything could have happened to ‘Ponine by now…and what about everyone else at the barricade?_ I had so many questions, and no way to communicate them.

An idea suddenly dawned on me. I got Joly’s attention and mimed for pen and paper, which he promptly fetched for me from a nearby table. I was surprised by my own ability to hold a pen, and moved it carefully across the page to write:

 

_Where am I?_

 

“You’re in my flat outside the Café Musain,” Joly answered, drinking a cup of tea. “You’ve been here for the last week, and I’ve been keeping your fever down as much as I can.”

 

_How did you get out?_

 

“When the soldiers found me treating you, I claimed to be simply caught on the wrong side of the barricade, but adhering to my solemn oath as a doctor to care for the sick and injured. When they heard that, they insisted I go back with them and treat their wounded. I’m so glad your fever didn’t take you while I was gone.”

I nodded. Now, the question I was most afraid to ask.

 

_What happened to Éponine?_

 

“She escaped with Gavroche’s body just before the cannons arrived and found me when I got back to you after treating the soldiers. We took you straight here. She’s been boarding here and helping me care for you. So has my wife, Muschietta.”

Relief coursed through me, and I let my limbs go weak for a moment. _She’s alive. Thank God._

 

_Can I see ‘Ponine?_

 

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that much excitement yet.” I glared. “B-but I can go get her, if you want,” Joly stammered, clearly unnerved by my anger. I nodded, and he promptly left the room. He brought ‘Ponine back a moment later, who was clearly relieved to see me conscious and alive.

“Enjolras!” she cried joyfully, throwing her arms around me when she reached me. I held her as tightly as I dared, trying not to re-open any of the saber wounds I didn’t know I had. I was relieved to have her in my arms again. She kissed my lips once, gently, and I felt truly alive again. _I think I can conquer this fever now, if I have her left to live for._ “How long has he been awake, Joly?” I heard her ask.

“Barely long enough to ask about you,” he chuckled. I mimed for pen and paper again, and ‘Ponine pushed them back to me.

 

_What happened to the others?_

 

Joly sighed heavily. “All dead, except for Marius. Somehow, he escaped on his own. He’s here, too, with his new fiancée.”

Her name came back to me, and I wrote it as a question.

 

_Cosette?_

 

To my surprise, Éponine answered this time, with a nod.

 

_When did they get engaged?_

 

“He proposed about three days ago.”

_And you’re not upset, ‘Ponine?_

 

She smiled. “I would have been, if it were a year ago…but not now. When I was carrying Gavroche through the streets of Paris, I did some soul-searching…and I realized I love someone else. And I’ve loved that someone else all along. It was blurry once…but now it’s crystal clear. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

 

_Dare I ask who the lucky man is to be the object of your affections?_

 

She grinned and answered with a long kiss. I knew what she meant. “What does that tell you?”

 _She loves me,_ I thought. _At last, she loves me._ I could hardly believe it. After four years of waiting, my deepest wish had come true. My energy renewed, I started writing faster.

 

_It tells me that you’ve just made me the happiest man alive. Yes, I’m even happier than our newly-engaged Marius. Which reminds me, I have a question for you, Mademoiselle._

 

“I’m all ears. Or eyes, in this case,” she chuckled.

My hand started to shake as I wrote:

 

_Éponine-Marguerite Thénardier, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?_

 

“Of course,” she answered with the bright smile of hers that I had always loved so much. I threw my arms around her as much as I could and held her tightly. She leaned up and kissed me again, and I kissed her back with abandon. I didn’t want this moment to ever end.

“Do I see a double wedding in the future?” Joly chuckled.

“We’ll have to take that up with Marius and Cosette!” Éponine laughed, before she went right back to kissing me.

I almost thought I was dreaming. For once, things were going right.

 

_Éponine_

I was a little surprised by Enjolras’ sudden proposal, especially considering that he was barely clinging to life as he wrote the words, but I knew when I said yes that there was no way I could second-guess the decision. Working with Joly to save his life only made me love him and want to be with him even more.

When I went back to the barricade after burying Gavroche, I found Joly hiding with Enjolras in the wreckage. Once he confirmed who I was and filled me in on Enjolras’ condition, we worked together to move Enjolras discreetly back to Joly’s flat.

That was when things took a turn for the worse.

Enjolras had been hit by eight bullets and slashed by three sabers. Two of the blades had gone the width of his chest – no small feat, considering his size – and the other was just above his stomach. The bullets were mostly in his legs – one made it all the way to his hip – and Joly had his doubts about whether or not Enjolras would be able to walk again, if he even lived. The damage to his muscles was serious and extensive.

After Joly managed to get all the bullets out – which I had to watch, because I disposed of them as soon as they left the poor man’s body – and closed the saber wounds, he got a bad fever that kept climbing for about five days. Joly worked night and day on him for almost three days, barely eating or sleeping and never leaving Enjolras’ side. When he did finally consent to sleep, I kept vigil and a cold rag on his forehead. When I became exhausted, Marius, Muschietta and Cosette took shifts nursing him. When I sat at his bedside at night, I prayed more than I’d ever prayed in my life – for Enjolras, for Joly, for myself, for Gavroche’s soul, and for all of those who died in the revolution. For Marius, for Cosette, for her papa, and for the soul of the Inspector that Gavroche ratted out at the barricade; he committed suicide a few days later.

When trying to keep him cool didn’t work, Joly and I rounded up Muschietta, Marius, Cosette, all the servants and every spare blanket in the house. Joly thought maybe more sweat would help his fever, and it seemed to be working. Within the week, his temperature dropped almost ten degrees, down to about 104, and then he was conscious and asking me to be his wife.

I couldn’t believe how things were turning out.

Shortly after Enjolras proposed, Joly left to go check on another patient in town. I sat next to Enjolras on his sickbed, putting an arm around his waist. He’d lost weight in the week he’d been unconscious, and I could tell he was tired and weak. He managed a smile, though, putting an arm around my shoulders and kissing my forehead.

“I thought you’d died,” I murmured.

“For a while, I did too,” he admitted. When he spoke, his voice was different. He sounded almost like he was re-learning how to talk, even though his words were clear. “Being that sick is really disorienting.”

“I’m sure.” I put a hand to his chest, over his heart. The muscles there were still strong, as was his heartbeat. “I’m sorry…for what I said that morning. I know I upset you, and I shouldn’t have accused you of trying to kill the rest of the ABC.”

He smiled a little sadly and stroked my hair back. “You were scared and upset too, ‘Ponine. I was indescribably furious with you at the time, but now, I don’t blame you for what you said.”

I looked at him skeptically; I was a little surprised that he could forgive me so quickly. I knew he loved me, but all the same, it was awfully quick for the awful things I said. I thought it would take a lot longer. “Are you sure, love?”

“I’m sure,” he said. “And you have no idea how happy it makes me when you call me love,” he murmured in my ear; I could tell he was smiling as he said it. We started talking about the wedding for a while – Enjolras seemed willing to go with whatever I wanted, and even knew a family friend who could make my wedding dress in whatever time frame we wanted. We started to disagree when I insisted he get better before we got married. He hated the idea of being bedridden and unmarried for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

“Ironic, since you vowed to die a bachelor as a teenager,” I snorted.

“That was before I met you,” he answered readily with a wry smile.

I smiled back and kissed his forehead, nose, and lips. “I love you, Henri-François Enjolras.” For years, I had thought I would say Marius Pontmercy there. I had never been happier to be wrong. Here I was, with the best man I could have asked for – he was all Marius had been to me, and so much more.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply with a smile when I spoke. “I love you too, Éponine-Marguerite Thénardier,” he answered. His blue-grey eyes were tired, but the happiest I’d ever seen them.

I couldn’t wait to make him that happy for the rest of my life.


	12. Chapter 12

_Enjolras_

Despite Joly’s protests, Éponine and I shared my bed the night I proposed. As much as I wanted to make love to her, we both knew I was in no condition to do anything but lie there and wish for it. In any case, feeling the pressure of her body next to me in the bed was wonderful, better than I could have ever dreamed. When I opened my eyes in the night, I managed to stay awake for several minutes and listen to her even breathing, despite my own exhaustion.

At about 3:00 a.m., she spoke.

“Enjolras? Are you asleep?”

“Not yet.”

I felt her roll over. “Do I have to start calling you Henri, since we’re getting married?”

I gingerly turned to face her. “Not if you don’t want to.”

She smiled, barely perceptible in the dark. “I don’t think I do.”

I smiled back at her for a moment and kissed her forehead. Her skin was cool against my lips, or maybe I was still burning up. It was hard to tell. “Go to sleep, silly girl. I love you.”

 

_Éponine_

 

About two hours later, I woke up again, but for a different reason.

Enjolras was moving around in the bed, perhaps more than he should have been, for his condition. I lit a candle to see him better, and I didn’t like what I saw. He was tossing and turning fitfully, looking afraid in his sleep. Occasionally, he would make a small gasping noise, as if he were being wounded.

“Enjolras?” I murmured, almost afraid of what he would do.

His breathing suddenly got heavier, as if my voice had triggered a reaction in his brain, and he started moving around more. “C-Courfeyrac…” I heard him stammer; the look on his face was the same as the horrible night the man died. “N-no…”

 _He’s having a nightmare about the ABC,_ I realized. I gently shook his shoulder. “Enjolras, wake up,” I whispered.

“G-Gavroche…” he stammered, and his voice was like a knife to my heart when he said my little brother’s name. His breathing was picking up, and he was tossing more, gripping the sheets. “N-not Gavroche…m-me…”

I was getting more and more worried by the minute. If he didn’t wake up soon, he was going to hurt himself, and then he’d take even longer to recover. “Enjolras!” I murmured a little more urgently.

With a gasp, his eyes popped open, wide and afraid. He was suddenly extremely still, and still breathing hard. “…’P-Ponine?” he stammered, sounding almost childlike in his fear. I stroked his drenched hair back from his forehead and shushed him.

“Yes, darling. I’m right here,” I murmured softly, putting a reassuring arm around him. “You were having a nightmare.”

He visibly relaxed and closed his eyes again. “Thank God it was.”

I kissed his forehead gently. “Go back to sleep, _bien-aimé._ Everything’s alright.”

 

_Enjolras_

I didn’t remember much of the nightmare, but it still scared me.

All I remembered of the week after the battle of the barricade was the dreams. They were always about the ABC, and they always ended badly. Sometimes, it would be a regular meeting that went wrong, other times it was the barricade again. In still others, it was as though my friends were talking to me, blaming me for their deaths. I could see all of them – Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Gavroche, Grantaire, Lesgle, Prouvaire – clear as day, all asking me why I let them die. I always woke up before I could fail to give them an answer.

Night and day, I was racked to the core by guilt for their deaths, as if I had pulled the trigger to execute them myself. I had been the one to stir the love of revolution in their hearts, and now because of it, I’d lost them all. Part of me was thankful to be alive and still have Éponine, but the other part of me felt I didn’t deserve to be here if they weren’t. As much as I tried not to dwell on the ABC, they still haunted me. I was thankful for Éponine in the days and weeks following the revolution. She always managed to find ways to keep me distracted during the day, and soothed me when I woke up screaming at night.

The day after I proposed to her, Joly started to help me with rehabilitating my legs. I could tell it was going to be an infuriatingly slow process. The bullets he’d removed had shredded a good deal of my muscles, and I had to fix it slowly. All we did on day one was work on sitting up against the pillows. Since I hadn’t moved at all in a week, my body had lost a lot of its former strength. Éponine insisted on helping with my recovery in whatever way she could. I could tell she saw the extent of my frustration with not being able to actually get up and move around, but somehow, she kept me patient.

Partway through the afternoon, Joly left to do a patient visit, but only after ordering me to concentrate on sitting up and re-strengthening my core. Muschietta, whom I discovered was a few weeks pregnant, had just brought my lunch to me, and Éponine was sitting with me, reading one of my books on Robespierre. It was one of the precious few that she and Joly had managed to salvage from my flat. As I sat up in the bed, focusing on my maimed body, my eyes started to close, and my mind went back to the nightmare from the previous night. I quickly shook my head to clear it. I refused to dwell on that now. I was going to recover, and then marry the love of my life. I couldn’t hold on to my ghosts forever. Not when I was about to start a new life with Éponine.

“Enjolras? Are you alright?” she asked in concern, putting the book down. “What do you need?”

I sighed heavily. “I need them here.” She sighed also; I knew I wouldn’t have to explain my meaning. She put the book down and came to sit next to me on the bed as I continued. “It’s torture, ‘Ponine…every time I close my eyes, I can see Grantaire drinking himself into a stupor in the corner, or Feuilly and Combeferre debating on social issues, Courfeyrac entertaining Gavroche or cracking jokes with Bahorel…and then, they all turn on me and ask me why I let them die.” I bit back tears as I said, “And the worst part is…I don’t have an answer for them.” Unable to contain myself anymore, I broke down in sobs.

“Oh, sweetheart…” I heard her whisper over my head as she held me. My mind went back to the night she came to my door sobbing as I cried and she rocked me back and forth. _I suppose we’ve come full circle, in a way._ I wept uncontrollably for the first time since the battle. My body shook with the force of my lamentations; I ignored the shooting pains in my legs and chest and cried. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. Part of me almost wished I hadn’t even woken up, if it would have spared me this pain. “The guilt I feel…” I gasped out when I finally stopped sobbing, _“Mon Dieu…_ it’s like I pulled the trigger myself. It’s my fault they’re gone. I’m the reason they’re dead,” I said, breaking down again.

“Enjolras…darling, their deaths weren’t your fault,” she murmured over my head, stroking back my hair when I finally calmed down again. “They died because they loved their cause, too, and they wanted a republic the same way you did.”

“Because of me,” I answered, looking into her eyes again. “I am the reason they loved a republic.”

“They still chose to pick up their guns and fight on their own. You didn’t force any of them to fight against their will – in fact, you offered to let them leave, and none of them did,” she said. “I can promise, you aren’t guilty of anything, my love.”

As I thought about Éponine’s reasoning, I felt a little better for the moment. I leaned my body against her in exhaustion; crying so hard had completely sapped what little energy I had. “I wish they were still here, ‘Ponine…I wish they could see us get married.”

“I do too,” she murmured. “They’d never believe it,” she chuckled.

I smiled a little. “Grantaire would drink the bar dry in celebration.”

“And Prouvaire would insist on writing a poem for us.”

“Courfeyrac would have been my best man.”

“And Gavroche could have been the ring bearer.”

Shockingly, talking about what our wedding could have been like with them here seemed to make it easier for me to start letting go. “Feuilly would have made his best fan for you,” I added.

“Lesgle would have had some kind of accident at some point,” she laughed. “He always managed that somehow.” I laughed as well, amazed that I still knew how. My reaction clearly pleased her, and she kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry, love. We can still have a good wedding, and we still have Marius and Cosette.”

I smiled, encouraged by her words, and sweetly kissed her once. “I love you,” I murmured.

“I love you too.”

 

_Éponine_

A few days later, Enjolras took a turn for the worse.

He was starting to be able to move his legs in the bed – Joly and I both thought he was recovering so quickly out of sheer willpower – and things seemed to be progressing just fine. About three days after the proposal, he was sitting up comfortably in his bed and moving his legs back and forth easily. Joly and I were both amazed.

The next day was when things went wrong.

In mid-afternoon, I went to take him his lunch, like I always did, and I was greeted with defiance.

“I want to try to walk.”

I wasn’t surprised at his sudden adventurous attitude. “You’ll have to take that up with Joly,” I said firmly. “Personally, I don’t know if you should try yet. It’s only been a few days.”

“’Ponine, there’s only one way to find out if my legs are going to work again,” he said just as firmly. When I looked into his eyes, I saw their hard, steely gleam – the one they always got when he was determined to get his way – had come back.

I could tell it was going to be fruitless to argue, and sighed, putting his lunch on his lap. “Alright, eat that and I’ll go get Joly.” I exited the room and hurried downstairs, where the young doctor was in his study, concentrating on a medical volume of some sort. He looked up when I knocked on the open door.

“Ah, Éponine. How’s Enjolras?” he asked.

“Taking lunch, and seemingly well,” I answered, then sighed and got to the point. “He wants to try to walk.”

Joly frowned a little. “He told you this himself?”

“Right when I walked in.”

His frown grew deeper. “Take me to him.” The two of us quickly ascended the stairs to Enjolras’ room, but before Joly could open his mouth to breathe, Enjolras announced the same thing, but perhaps even more stubbornly than before.

“I want to walk, Joly.”

“Yes, your fiancée informed me,” he said dryly. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“My legs feel stronger,” he said, his arms still crossed. “The only way to know if they are is to give it a try.”

Joly sighed. “Alright. You’re going to have to swing them over the side of the bed, then put an arm around me and an arm around Éponine. We’ll walk with you to that chair,” Joly said, pointing to a large chair with arms that was next to the table not far from the bed. “Understood?” Enjolras nodded sharply. “Alright, let’s give this a try.”

Carefully, Enjolras turned his body and managed to get his legs over the side of the bed. He paused, and Joly and I slipped under his arms – I was on his right, Joly on his left. Enjolras gripped our shoulders as our arms wrapped around his waist, and we carefully lifted him to his feet. “So far, so good,” Joly murmured when he kept his balance. “Now, try to take a step.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly; I almost thought he was nervous. “Come on, love,” I murmured. “ _Vous pouvez marcher.”_ My words seemed to encourage him, because slowly, his left foot started to move forward. He noticeably relaxed and carefully did the same thing with his right leg.

Then his left again.

Then the right.

Then left.

Then right.

Slowly but surely, he was walking again.

“I can still walk…” he whispered in awe. We were almost halfway to the chair on account of the tiny steps he was taking. “’Ponine…I can still walk!” he exclaimed, looking at me. The expression on his face was almost childlike in its glee; I hadn’t seen him this happy since…well, ever.

I almost laughed. It was actually funny to see him so excited. _“Très bon!”_ I exclaimed as he started taking slightly bigger steps. Soon, the three of us had hobbled over to the chair, and Joly and I carefully helped him to sit. He gripped the arms hard as he slowly lowered into it, but then relaxed as he settled in. I knelt in front of him and hugged him tightly. “You did it, love. You walked,” I murmured, grinning at him.

“I suppose I won’t say ‘I told you so,’” he winked, kissing my lips.

I laughed. “Alright, you win this time,” I grinned.

 

_Enjolras_

If I couldn’t make love to Éponine just yet, learning to walk again was the next best thing.

As I hobbled slowly from the bed to the chair, supported by Joly and Éponine, I started feeling like I was in control of my situation again. Here I was, with two of the people I loved the most – two of my only friends left in the world – actually using my damaged legs.

But when I sat down, things started going downhill.

I was fine when Éponine held me and kissed me, almost as excited as I was that I was walking again, but when she turned her back to me, I suddenly felt weaker than I’d felt in days…my body started to hurt again…the room started spinning…I was breathing hard, gripping the arms of the chair, and I thought I was going to be sick.

In the distance, I heard Joly sharply calling my name…perhaps he was getting up? A wave of nausea overcame me, and then my body convulsed as I started to vomit. I fell to my knees and heard ‘Ponine screaming, rushing footsteps, and then I was being lifted back into the bed, and Joly had a thermometer back under my tongue.

“Damn…his fever’s going back up,” he said heavily. I noticed when he spoke that my ears weren’t working right; it was like I was hearing him speak from the other side of the room through a bad ear trumpet. “I had a feeling this would be a mistake, but he looked strong enough…” Joly sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.

“What’re we going to do?” a clearly distressed ‘Ponine asked.

“Go back to the way things were before today. He’s confined to the bed until we’re sure he’s strong enough to walk without shocking his body too badly,” Joly said firmly.

“But…I walked…” I croaked.

“That’s of no matter,” the doctor snapped. “You made yourself sick again, and as long as you’re under my care, I’ll determine when you can and can’t get out of that bed.” He sighed and stood up, looking at Éponine as a maid discreetly slipped in to clean up the floor. “I’m going to fetch the blankets again. Éponine, you and Muschietta see how many of the servants you can round up to help you see to him. I have a feeling he’s going to need at least another week or two of around-the-clock care, and the three of us can’t do that on our own. Not to mention that Muschietta will be able to help us less as her pregnancy progresses.” She nodded, taking another rueful glance at me, before she left the room calling for Muschietta.

“I walked, Joly,” I croaked again. “I told you I could.”

He sighed. “You’re tough to crack, Enjolras. You’re strong, but you can be so strong you’re almost foolhardy.”

I smiled wryly. “Perhaps I was foolish to want to walk so soon, but it was worth it to me to see ‘Ponine so happy, and to feel something other than guilt for losing the ABC. You, her and Marius are the only friends I have left in the world.”

Joly smiled a little sadly. “Your stubbornness is going to be the death of you, Henri-François.”

“As long as I get to marry my Éponine-Marguerite, I don’t care.”


	13. Chapter 13

_Éponine_

I couldn’t believe how quickly things had taken a downward turn. One minute he was walking, and the next, he was vomiting and his fever was back up. I was frustrated, disappointed, confused – I didn’t know what I was feeling as I searched for Muschietta.

Thankfully, I found the pregnant mistress of the house quickly, and informed her of the situation. Saint that she was, she reassured me and hurried off as quickly as her legs – and growing child – would allow her to go, calling for all the servants as she went. Every spare blanket in the house was now on Enjolras’ bed. He was hardly visible under the stack of them. “That ought to help; it’s almost twice as many…as before,” Joly mumbled with a yawn in the middle of his sentence. Even though it was only midday, he was already completely exhausted.

“Get some sleep, Joly,” I said. “I’ll stay with him and make sure he doesn’t injure himself.” With his wife’s encouragement, he reluctantly left, and I sat at my fiancé’s bedside, barely able to see him under the massive stack of blankets now resting on top of him. I didn’t know he was awake until he spoke.

“Why now, Éponine?” he croaked.

“What do you mean, love?” I murmured.

“Why did I have to get worse now, when I was just getting better?” he asked, turning his head to face me. He was exhausted, but clearly frustrated. He’d never been good at disguising his emotions.

I sighed heavily. I completely understood what he was saying; I felt the same way. “I don’t understand it either.”

“Is God punishing us?” he asked timidly. When I looked at him, I saw something in his eyes I’d never seen before – fear. “Is God punishing…me? Am I not improving because of the revolution? Or because I got all my friends killed?”

I looked away; I could hardly bear to see him in this state when I didn’t have an answer for him. “I…I don’t know.”

“I’m scared, ‘Ponine,” he whispered, and the fear in his voice was like a knife in my heart. “Where am I going to go now when I die? I killed so many men without a second thought, and I caused the deaths of so many more…it’s my fault Gavroche and countless other civilians are dead,” he choked out. “All of their blood is on my hands. Surely this is going to affect my fate somehow.”

The knife in my heart twisted when he said my little brother’s name, but when I could turn to face him, I did my best to answer him. “Darling, you still did what you did for a reason, a cause. You were willing to give your life for the sake of a republic, and the rest of the _Amis_ understood that when they took their places with you on the barricade. I said it before, and I’ll say it again – you didn’t force them to fight; they agreed to it knowing that they could die. They were willing to give their lives, too.” I sat next to him on the bed. “As for the rest…if you’ve confessed to God and received absolution, shouldn’t you be okay?” I wasn’t quite clear on the religious aspect of his fears; I hadn’t been raised going to church.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nominally, yes…but I’m still haunted by my ghosts. I can’t get them out of my head…I’m afraid that they’ll be with me forever.”

I turned his face so he was looking into my eyes. “Enjolras, it’s time to embrace the fact that your actions were for the right reasons. The ABC may never leave your heart, but you have to do your best to let them go. You don’t have to allow them to haunt you forever.”

 

_Enjolras_

 

An idea came to me as she spoke, and my face hardened. “Then I shall cast them into bullets and use them to mount a new revolution. But this time…” I sat up a little straighter. “This time, my guns shall not be so loud. I can make France a better place for all with a much quieter sort of revolution.” I felt like an orator again as I spoke; a bit of my old self was coming back.

Her eyebrows went up. “Oh? What’s your plan?”

“I’ll go into the government,” I murmured as I wet my lips, rapt with my own idea. I almost didn’t feel sick anymore. “I’ll get as high up as I possibly can – who knows, maybe someday I’ll be in charge – and I’ll change the system from the inside. But never once will I forget what my friends fought and died for. Never once will I forget the reason I’m there.”

She started to grin, and it grew wider as my plan unfolded. “And I’ll be at your side the whole way.”

I grinned back, until Joly came in. When he saw me sitting up in bed again, he sighed wearily. “Enjolras, I know you’re a stubborn man, but please, make an effort to obey the doctor when he tells you to get some sleep,” the man groaned.

“And _you,_ doctor, should obey your wife when she tells you the same,” Muschietta’s soprano laugh sounded behind him. “Come back to bed, dearest. You clearly need your rest, and Éponine is perfectly capable of seeing to Enjolras on her own.”

Joly turned around to say something else, but Éponine ushered him out. “Go,” she said. “You heard your wife.” He left with another tired sigh, and I chuckled at her.

“You women,” I said. “Always teaming up to destroy us poor men!”

She laughed. “Not to destroy you; just to tell you when to get your rest,” she answered.

I shrugged. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“Now it’s your turn to get some sleep,” she added with a chuckle, making me lie back down and pulling the blankets over me. I sighed, but didn’t really protest. I was quite tired. She stroked my hair back and kissed my forehead. “Go to sleep, darling,” she murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” She kissed my lips, and then I was asleep.

 

_Éponine_

I could see why Enjolras had wanted to start a revolution. Not just because I had lived everything he fought to change, but because I read his books while he slept.

After we rescued him from the barricade, Joly and I had barely managed to save his most precious books from his flat – thick volumes by Robespierre, Rousseau, Montesquieu, Locke, and his copy of the American pamphlet _Common Sense_. Even though many of the specific terms eluded me, I could still understand the basic idea of their writing, and what had inspired Enjolras to start the rebellion. With only his snoring to accompany me, I read – and read and read, for hours on end. I only put the books down to go to the bathroom, help Joly take care of Enjolras, and sleep. Often, I even fell asleep in bed with him, still reading. In my childhood, I hadn’t been a great reader – I’d never been able to practice it – but now, having the chance to practice with his books helped me greatly.

A few days after his second incident, he startled me by speaking partway through the day. “Ah, I see you’ve discovered my books,” he smiled from the bed. I jumped at his voice; I hadn’t expected him to be awake. “Which one have you got there?” he asked, sitting up gingerly.

“Rousseau,” I smiled, reading off the front cover. _“_ _Du contrat social ou Principes du droit politique.”_

He smiled. “One of my favorites. Which part?”

I had to double-check; I’d very nearly lost track. My thoughts tended to wander as I read, though I enjoyed the books. “The distinction between sovereign and government,” I replied. “I really hadn’t thought about things this way before.”

Enjolras nodded, another small smile crossing his face. “Rousseau had a very interesting view on lots of political theory,” he said, relaxing into the bed. “It’s one of the reasons I love reading his work so much.”

“I quite enjoyed reading Locke, actually,” I answered. It was true; I had finished the _Deuxième Traité sur le gouvernement_ just the other day, and absolutely loved it.

“Did you, now?” he asked curiously, eyeing me as I spoke.

I nodded. “The section on life, liberty and property was quite interesting, I thought.”

“Ah, you mean the section that the Americans ripped off in their Declaration of Independence?” he chuckled. I raised an eyebrow. “It’s true – their third president changed ‘property’ to ‘pursuit of happiness’ when they started their revolution.”

“Locke must have rolled in his grave,” I laughed. Enjolras laughed too; it was the first time he’d even cracked a smile since Joly confined him to his bed again. I walked over and sat down next to him on the bed, still carrying the book. “How did you get interested in all of this? In law, government, politics?”

“My father was a lawyer,” he explained with a smile. “Mama told me once that when I was little, barely able to walk, I would follow him into his study and pester him about whatever he was working on,” he chuckled. “He’d put me on his lap and show me all the different papers on his desk, trying to explain to me as best he could what everything meant. A lot of those books were his, actually. That’s why they’re so special to me. He only kept them around because they were my grandfather’s. Papa left them to me when he died.”

I smiled and chuckled a little at the though of two- or three-year-old Enjolras waddling into his father’s study as fast as his little legs could carry him, calling after his papa. “What was your family like when you were growing up?” I asked, realizing he’d never told me.

He sighed softly. “Well, my father was busy most of the time…when he wasn’t in his study, he was at the courts arguing cases. And mostly winning them,” he chuckled. “Papa was very good at what he did. When he was home, though, he made an effort to put off his work as long as he could to spend time with his family. Mama always stayed at home with me and my two older brothers and three younger sisters.”

My eyebrows sharply went up. “Three younger sisters, eh? No wonder you swore off women for so long,” I chuckled.

He laughed aloud; clearly he was starting to feel better, because he didn’t curl up in pain after. “Their adolescent drama certainly had something to do with all that. I love my sisters very dearly, though, and they love me. Them, and my mama…are the only blood family I have left.”

“What happened to your papa and your brothers?”

“Papa passed away just before I started university,” he said. “My brothers fell ill and died within days of each other not more than two years ago. It was very hard on Mama to lose her husband and two of her sons so close together.” He sighed. “I’m sure Mama thinks I’m dead, too…”

An idea occurred to me as he spoke. “Are any of your sisters married?”

“Not that I know.”

“Where are they living, then?”

He frowned at me in mild confusion, but answered. “I would assume the family estate in Bordeaux. Why?”

“We should go there as soon as we’re married,” I said firmly. “They need to know you’re still alive.”

He sighed. “Éponine…it’s not that simple, my love. Mama disowned me when she found out I was taking part in the revolution; she would have cut me off completely if she had known I was their leader. She couldn’t have the house of Enjolras being tarnished by my schoolboy activities,” he said, more than a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I know that legally, I’ll still inherit the money I’m due, since I’m the only man left in my family, but she’ll want nothing to do with me. Even though I’m alive, I’ll still be dead – dead to her.”

“What about your sisters?” I countered. “You said they still love you. Don’t you think they’d be worried about you? Perhaps still hoping you’re alive?” I paused. “Do you want them to always think the opposite?”

“Heavens, no!”

“My point exactly,” I answered. “At the very least, you should write them a letter. Tell them you’re alive, recovering, and engaged. They might not believe the last one, but you should tell them anyway.”

He chuckled a little, before a sense of urgency returned. “Get me the pen and paper over there on that table,” he said quickly, and I leaped off the bed to do so; he practically snatched them out of my hands. “I’m going to do this right now,” he said.

As I hurried out of the room to fetch Joly and inform him of the situation, I could already hear the pen quickly scratching the paper. _The cheeky gent already knew what he wanted to say,_ I thought to myself.

 

_Enjolras_

A few hours later, I finally put the pen down and let my aching hand relax. Writing a five-page letter to my sisters had tired me greatly. I picked up the first page – it was finally completely dry – and started to re-read my work as a worried Joly checked my vitals for the fifth time, making sure I hadn’t worked myself into too much of a frenzy with my writing.

 

_June 15, AD 1832_

_Dearest Adrienne, Monique, and Camille,_

_Do not be alarmed, my dear sisters, on receiving this letter. By the cross of Jesus, it is your brother, Henri-François Enjolras, writing these words. I survived the barricades, and have been recovering from my wounds and illness here in Paris. By the time this letter reaches you in Bordeaux, I hope to be fully recovered and en route to you with the woman who will by then be my wife. I know you’re likely quite confused, but don’t worry. I’m going to start at the beginning and explain everything. I pray that the three of you – and Mama as well – will reconsider your judgment of me once you hear my reasons and explanations for my actions._

_When I left for university just after our Papa died, I met several other young men – mostly students, a few workingmen, all close to my age – who believed in something we didn’t have, something called a republic. They were all good men – Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Grantaire, Pontmercy, Prouvaire, Joly, and Lesgle were their surnames, and those were all we ever called each other by. We held each other on equal ground; there was no such thing as a class system when we were around each other. Pontmercy and I both came from wealthy families, but the rest were poor, working night and day to put food on the table for their families when they weren’t in school – and even then, they reached the brink of starvation far too often. I took pity on them when I heard their stories, and I wanted to help them in any way I could._

_When Courfeyrac and I became close friends, he told me of their initial plans to start a rebellion against the monarchy and form the republic they had always wanted. Once I overcame my alarm, I started to argue with him about it, of course taking the side of the monarchy, since that was how I’d been raised. At the end of that argument, he asked me a question I will never forget, the question that drove everything behind my actions in the years, months, weeks and days leading up to the revolution – he said to me, “Enjolras, would you have us, your friends, die of starvation with no voice in the government because your family supports the tradition of a monarchy?” I was furious with him and walked away without answering, but inside, he had gotten me to thinking._

_As I pondered this delicate situation, I remembered that as a little boy – when I would follow Papa into his study, before the three of you were born – he had always told me a republic was something to be feared, something we didn’t want to have. The monarchy was what was best for the common people, and they didn’t know any better, because they were uneducated. But I wasn’t like them, no! It was my job to use my brain, go to school, go into the government, and tell the poor how to live their lives. As I thought about what Courfeyrac had asked me, I started to realize what a constrained life I had led, despite the fact that I was an upper-class man – there were still many high expectations of me, and I had to put aside what I wanted to do and pursue what everyone else wanted me to do. I managed to push aside his question during the day, but at night, before I went to sleep, the thought still nagged me. Was I really the kind of man who would let my friends die impoverished for the sake of keeping my family name untarnished?_

_As I studied law and government on my own for the first time, reading the works of Locke, Rousseau, and Robespierre, writing countless papers on them night and day, I started to realize that perhaps a republic wasn’t such a bad thing after all – at least, not the way the philosophes talked about it. A government where the citizens have a say in what goes on in their lives? How could that be bad for them? My friends and I started our organization to make this come true, Les Amis de l’ABC. I resolved to lead these men, my friends, to the republic they had always dreamed of. I had always loved our France, our Patria, and now I was going to take her to glory. We started meeting in the Café Musain on a regular basis, discussing politics, current events, debating on government and a revolution. A 5-year-old gamin, Gavroche Thénardier, even joined our ranks, and became our most useful spy when we started to plan the details of our revolt. Despite his youth, he proved very wise, and an incredible insight into the class of people, the misérables, that we wanted to help._

_Over the course of my education and the development of the ABC as an organization, I became single-mindedly devoted to the Patria, wanting nothing more than to see her progress as a nation. As the three of you know, I had already sworn off women, and thus was able to devote all my time to France, my first love. The idea of being able to start progress and cause change thrilled me, and I started giving speeches around town – you probably heard about some of them, though I never expected to see your faces in the crowd. The people I spoke to, either in giving speeches or in conversation on the street, were just as excited as I was about the idea of a new government where they could help make the laws they lived under. I was a true republican, my blood boiling for revolution._

_But then, four years ago, I met Éponine, and at 19, I fell in love again._

_She was only a kid when we met – 15 years old, in fact – but it was clear that she was hard to scare. She was Gavroche’s older sister. The two of them had grown up on the streets, and she was pretty tough, but she was clearly still unsure of herself around us men, partly because of her youth. She had been coming to the ABC’s meeting with Pontmercy for a while when I realized how I felt about her. She was in love with him at the time – it was painfully clear to all of us, except the Monsieur himself. I watched the way she looked at him, and I noticed that I ached to make her evident loneliness go away. I had fallen in love with her. I thought it was going to be the death of me to watch her pine after Pontmercy when I was right next to him, waiting for her._

_But recently, things have changed – and no, not because I’ve fallen out of love. If anything, I’m more in love with her by the day. A little more than a week ago, she came knocking on the door of the Café Musain in the middle of the night, running from her father and terrified for her life. I let her stay under my roof for a few days, and even paid her father to leave her with me and never contact us again. Yes, I bought her. It was for her good._

_That was the night before Lamarque’s funeral, and we were finally getting the revolution we’d always wanted. I know you already know how that ended, but I’ll tell you my side of it. The first night at the barricade, my best friend, Gilbert-Mattheiu Courfeyrac, was killed taking a bullet for my Éponine. He was the only other person in the world who knew I loved her, which was why he died to save her. The next day, I lost everyone else but her, Marius and Joly, and I almost died, myself._

_I was unconscious for a week after the battle, but Joly told me what I’ve been through, and I’ll relay it to you. He removed eight bullets from my body and closed three saber slashes. Two of them were very close to my lungs. After he disinfected and closed up all my wounds, I got a bad fever and almost died. I was running a temperature of almost 108 degrees, and was delirious despite my unconscious state. Joly, his wife Muschietta and Éponine barely kept me alive. As soon as I woke up, I proposed to Éponine, and she accepted me._

_Just as I was getting better again, I took a downward turn two days ago. I tried to walk, but we discovered that my fever has gone back up, and I’m sitting in bed as I finish this letter, covered in blankets and trying to sweat out as much of it as I can. As soon as I recover, Éponine and I will marry, and we plan to visit you in Bordeaux as soon as we can afterwards._

_I love you all, I pray you are well, and give my love to Mama. Au revoir until we meet, and I remain_

_Your brother,_

_Henri_

 

 _Not bad, for vomiting and hardly able to sit up straight two days ago,_ I thought with a small, if grim, smile. “Joly? Can you have this sent to Bordeaux immediately?” I asked.

He nodded, ringing the bell for the manservant. When he arrived, I relayed the directions to my family’s estate, and the man was off. “Here’s to hoping they actually listen to you,” Joly chuckled when he left.

I smiled, albeit a little grimly. “My sisters and I have a very special attachment. They were half the reason I said I was going to die a bachelor before university, but we four have always been very close. I hope they’ll listen to me, and that they’ll show the letter to my mama. She’s the one who might take extra convincing.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” He put a hand to my shoulder and said, “Just pray. I know everything will work out fine.”

“I hope so.”


	14. Chapter 14

I continued to get better as the next few days passed. Thinking of marrying Éponine and writing to my sisters seemed to have helped my mood and consequently, I was recovering faster. The letter was constantly on my mind – even though I had re-read it countless times before sealing the envelope and sending it off to Bordeaux with Joly’s manservant, I still fretted over whether or not I had said all the right things. I worried constantly about hearing back from them – what they’d say about my engagement, what their reactions to my political assertions would be – and most of all, what my Mama would say if she read it.

As my recovery progressed, more details of the wedding began to fall into place. Cosette – the new Madame Pontmercy; she and Marius had a quick wedding when I started to recover – took great delight in helping us with the plans; she was constantly bustling around the house and talking to servants to get things arranged. She and Éponine slowly warmed to each other; the latter was still a little tentative around the former, but it seemed to be fading as they spent more time together. Muschietta helped Cosette where she could; Joly insisted she not exert herself too much as their baby grew. Often, she would merely smile at her husband’s attentiveness to her health and insist that she felt fine, but she did periodically take a few days to rest, at his insistence.

About a week and a half after I wrote to my sisters, I managed to walk again, this time with no violent protests from my body. Joly let me eat dinner at the table with the rest of the party to celebrate my small victory. The glow of pride and joy in Éponine’s eyes made me happier than I’d felt in days. Gradually, as time passed, I felt as though a great weight was being lifted from my shoulders – my guilt for the loss of the ABC was finally alleviating, I could slowly walk again, and soon I would be married.

Things were looking up.

 

_Éponine_

Once he started successfully walking again, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he had made a full recovery. He was a stubborn man anyway, and being able to walk again would only increase his motivation to recover as soon as he could by leaps and bounds.

Every morning, he and I would hobble down the stairs to breakfast together – Enjolras with the help of a cane and my arm – and after eating, we would take a brief, slow stroll around the streets of Paris. We were careful to keep his face hidden, in case we passed any inspectors on our way, but the exercise was clearly good for him; he continued to improve daily.

On Friday, June 29, 1832, Joly declared him fully recovered.

The next day, we were married.

As he had recovered, Enjolras had ordered one of the manservants to send for his old family friend to come to Joly’s flat and see me for wedding dress measurements and fittings. She was practically another mother to him, and tittered to me the whole time about how she “never thought our dear Henri would be able to settle down! You’ll be so good for him, dear,” she must have said a hundred times if she said it once. The dress was completed in a matter of days, and Muschietta insisted on hiding it in her wardrobe to keep it out of Enjolras’ sight. The afternoon Joly told him he’d recovered, Enjolras insisted on going to the church to get a time for the wedding. The priest agreed to 1:00 the following day, a Saturday.

That morning, I woke up early, Enjolras still sleeping beside me. I took a moment to close my eyes and enjoy my surroundings – the warmth of the bed, the pressure of my fiancé’s sleeping form, the sound of his breathing as he slept, the birds already singing outside as the sun was barely beginning to peek through the window into our room. I took a deep, contented breath, and looked at him, his eyes still closed.

“This is the day, love,” I whispered in his ear to wake him. “We’re getting married today.”

“At last,” I heard him sigh quietly, a small grin crossing his lips as his eyes opened. I grinned back, and that was all the incentive he needed to kiss me once – slowly, sweetly, gently. It was bliss. I kept my eyes closed for a moment when it ended, opening them to look into his. Their blue-gray color was alight with happiness, excitement – and almost nervousness, I thought. His hand came up to lightly stroke my cheek as he smiled at me. “I love you, ‘Ponine,” he said softly.

I sighed deeply with contentment. “I love you too, Enjolras,” I smiled. I would have been content to lie there forever, but we couldn’t miss our own wedding. He sighed softly as I climbed out of bed to go get ready, grumbling under his breath as he, too, got out of bed. He was still moving carefully, but he was able to do it on his own. “What, complaining that you’re getting married today?” I laughed. “It’s not like you to get cold feet, love.”

“Not that I’m getting married; just that I have to get out of bed to get married,” he chuckled, hugging me again. I laughed and hugged him back, kissing his cheek lightly.

“I’ve got to go; Cosette and Muschietta are waiting for me,” I smiled.

“Their men are waiting for me downstairs, I believe,” he chuckled. He squeezed my hand once, and with a last grin, we were each off to get ready.

 

_Enjolras_

When I finished slowly descending the stairs, Marius and Joly were already waiting for me at the foot of the staircase, both already dressed in their best for the ceremony.

“Your suit’s already at the church,” Marius smiled at me. “We’ll be taking breakfast there. We’re going to be gentlemen and let the women have the whole apartment for your bride to get ready.”  
         “Fair enough, I suppose,” I chuckled. The three of us walked out to the carriage, and rode the few blocks to the church. The priest was already waiting for us outside the front door.

“You’ll be using the back room to prepare for the ceremony, Monsieur Enjolras?” he asked.

 _“Oui, s’il vous plaît,”_ I answered him. He nodded and led the three of us through the small church to the back, unlocking it with the keys on his belt. _“Merci, Père,”_ I said with a nod, stepping inside, followed by Marius and Joly. Just as Marius had said, my suit, an old one of my father’s, was already hanging on the wall – my best formal black, and to my surprise, decorated with one of the small tricolor pins the _Amis_ had worn during the revolution on the lapel.

“I recovered the last one from the barricade, before the soldiers came through and took the bodies,” Marius said solemnly. “This one was Courfeyrac’s, the only one left untouched.”

I gaped at him, deeply touched by his gesture. “Thank you, Marius…” I murmured, touching it lightly and missing Courfeyrac even more than I had since the night he died. “If he had survived…he would have been my best man today.”

Joly put a hand to my shoulder, and I turned to look at him. “He’s with us in spirit. They all are,” he smiled.

I smiled back. “Come on gents, we can’t disappoint them. Grantaire’s drinking Heaven dry, and Prouvaire is composing a sonnet for me up there!”

As I started preparing, talking and laughing with Marius and Joly, I almost thought I heard Courf’s voice in my head – _“Congratulations, Enjolras! I have to say, none of us ever thought this day would come – including you, for a while, you remember? – but Éponine’s a lucky girl to be your bride,”_ he was smiling.

 

_Éponine_

 

Hours later, I was finally ready.

“Well? What do you think?” Cosette giggled, grinning at me. “Did Muschietta and I do a good job?”

They were standing on either side of me, wearing matching pink bridesmaid’s dresses, and looking at me in the mirror. They were both grinning ear to ear as I continued to gape; I never thought I’d look so pretty in my life. After a quick breakfast, a long bath and several brushings from the two maids, Cosette had tamed my long hair into a smooth bun, with a few loose curls framing my face. Muschietta had done my makeup, lining my eyes and coloring my lips and cheeks ever so slightly. My dress was pure white and almost strapless, save for two small, lace cap sleeves that barely covered my shoulders. The silk folded in a sweetheart neckline and fell from my waist into the floor-length skirt. Light embroidery covered the whole dress and short train. My long veil, held in the bun, was borrowed from Muschietta, and entirely lace.

“I hardly recognize myself,” I whispered in awe, turning to face each woman in turn and hugging her tightly. “Thank you both…for everything.”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Cosette murmured, turning around. When she faced me again, there was a thin, tricolor ribbon in her hands. “For your bouquet,” she smiled. “Marius recovered Courfeyrac’s pin from the barricade for Enjolras to wear, and I made this for you.”

I gently took the ribbon from her, letting it run through my fingers as I smiled back up at her. “Thank you, Cosette.”

She smiled back. _“Ce n'était rien,_ Éponine,” she answered. “Come on; you can’t be late for your own wedding!” she laughed. She took my hand and the three of us started downstairs, Muschietta bringing up the rear and holding up my train. On the way out, Cosette picked up the bouquet of red and white roses we’d been nourishing in a vase for a few days, and I carefully tied the ribbon around it. The carriage that had taken the men to the church earlier that morning was now back for us, and Muschietta helped me get settled before she and Cosette sat opposite me.

As we drove the few blocks to the church, several passersby cheered and applauded for us, especially on our arrival, when I stepped out in my dress. Their attention made me simply glow with pride. I had never been so adored in my life, except by the man that was about to become my husband. I was so nervous, but at the same time I couldn’t wait to be married – married to Enjolras.

“Ready?” Cosette whispered with a smile.

I nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” I laughed.

With that, the church doors opened.

 

_Enjolras_

The revolution had been child’s play compared to this.

Standing at the altar waiting for my bride was the single most nerve-wracking experience I’d ever had in my life. Next to this, fighting at the barricade seemed like nothing at all. Marius was standing at my side as my best man, murmuring in my ear in a vain attempt to keep me calm. Joly stood next to him, as patient and steadfast as ever.

Finally, the doors opened, and the three of us straightened up.

Cosette came in first, all smiles as she always was, and took her place at the altar as Éponine’s maid of honor. I turned back around…

And I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I had always thought Éponine to be a beautiful woman. Even when she had been living on the streets, ill nourished, filthy and wearing nothing more than rags, I had seen beauty in her. Now, at our wedding, she was positively radiant. She looked like an angel straight from Heaven. Her long, white dress hugged the small curves of the body I loved so much, and her hair was pulled back perfectly, with just a few loose curls framing her gorgeous, blushing face. She looked straight at me, and her smile only grew to the point that I thought my heart was going stop the longer I looked at her. Muschietta was behind her, holding up the train, her growing belly barely visible under her pale pink gown.

Finally, she reached me at the altar. As Muschietta went to stand behind Cosette, Éponine handed her bouquet of roses – which, I noticed, was bound by a tricolor ribbon – to Cosette, before facing me. As I took her hands in mine, stroking their backs with my thumbs, I couldn’t help but smile ear to ear. This was the moment I had always wanted.

The priest’s words hardly stayed in my ears during the ceremony – all I could focus on was the beautiful woman in front of me, the woman that, after today, I could call my wife. All through the ceremony, I could hardly believe it was really happening, until I put a ring on Éponine’s fourth finger, and she did the same to me. I looked to the priest for the end of the ceremony; these words would ring in my ears for the rest of the day.

He turned to me. “Henri-François Enjolras, do you take this woman to be your wife?”

“I do.” _At last…is this real?_

He turned to her. “Éponine-Marguerite Thénardier, do you take this man to be your husband?”

“I do.”

“By the power of God vested in me,” the priest spoke, making the sign of the cross over us, “I pronounce that you are man and wife. Monsieur Enjolras, you may kiss your bride.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. I gently took Éponine’s chin in my hand and brought her lips to mine. It was the sweetest, happiest kiss the two of us had ever shared. Our four witnesses cheered and applauded when we broke apart, and all I could see was Éponine – my wife – smiling like I’d never seen her smile.

_Finally. I’m married to the woman of my dreams._

_Éponine_

Part of me still couldn’t believe this was happening.

The man I loved was finally my husband.

I couldn’t believe how much had happened in the space of just a few weeks, but I was finally married to the man I knew I loved, and who loved me more than life itself. I never thought he would be the one to stand with me at the altar, but on my wedding day, I knew Henri-François Enjolras was the only man I wanted there. He was everything Marius had ever been to me, and so much more.

The six of us made our way out of the church, each woman on the arm of her man, and climbed into the two carriages waiting for us. Naturally, Enjolras and I had one to ourselves; Marius, Cosette, Joly and Muschietta were in the other. As soon as the door closed behind us, he kissed me again. I was a little taken aback, but pleasantly so, as I returned the gesture.

“You look stunning,” he murmured when our lips parted. I couldn’t help blushing; I never thought I’d hear those words in my life.

“Cosette and Muschietta certainly did a good job,” I laughed.

“More than that,” he grinned. I felt butterflies in my stomach when he did, and curled up closer to him in the carriage. Smiling, he snaked an arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “I love you, ‘Ponine.”

“I love you too, Enjolras,” I answered with a smile.

He smiled back. “Do you still want to go to Bordeaux?”

I nodded. “If it’s alright with you…I know it won’t be easy.”

He sighed. “Not much is going to be easy for us anymore…if I’m going to get into the government and reform the whole country, that’s going to take a lot of work,” he chuckled.

I laughed too. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, darling,” I smiled.

He smiled back. “It helps to have such a great support system,” he murmured, hugging me as we pulled up at the house. “Come on. It’s time to forget about life for a while,” he laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

_Enjolras_

A day or two after the wedding, I received a lengthy, scattered reply from Adrienne, expressing her joy that I had survived, disbelief that I had fallen in love with an actual woman, and longing to see me again. She said Monique and Camille both missed me terribly too; Mama hadn’t said anything when my letter arrived. When Éponine and I had been married for about a week, we decided it was time to make our trip.

After saying our farewells to Marius, Cosette, Joly and Muschietta, we climbed into Joly’s carriage – he insisted we take it – and we were off. I was a little nervous about seeing them, especially Mama. It had been almost five years since I was last home, and I had changed a lot. I knew Mama would heartily disapprove of my marriage to Éponine, but I was prepared to defend both her and my actions in the revolution.

I watched Éponine as we rode, sitting across from each other in the carriage. When we weren’t chatting, she would read some of my political books, or just look out the window, seemingly lost in thought. I knew I was as I looked at her – memorizing the curve of her face, the slight rise of her cheekbone, the sparkle in her eyes, the small, serene smile on her face. I smiled as I looked at her, proud that I was, at last, able to call her my wife.

The driver was quite efficient; we made it almost halfway to Bordeaux in one day. I was amazed at how quickly we were progressing. We stayed the night in Nantes, to give Éponine a chance to see the coast, and completed the journey to Bordeaux the following day. The countryside grew more and more familiar as we got closer to my family’s estate, and I started pointing out some of my favorite childhood spots to ‘Ponine as we rode.

Before long, my childhood home came into sight. It was just the same as when I left for university four years ago – a huge, imposing façade with large columns all along the front. I could see the shock and awe written all over Éponine’s face as she stared at it out the window of the carriage; I knew she probably hadn’t ever laid eyes on a house that big. “Just wait until you see the inside,” I grinned. “It’s beautiful.”

“You grew up _here?”_ she asked incredulously. I could only laugh.

As we came to a halt, I could see a few faces at the window by the front door, eyes wide with disbelief, and I was sure who they were. The front door of the house opened, and as I stepped out of the carriage – before I could even turn to my wife – the running girl had catapulted herself into my arms, and I nearly toppled over as I caught her.

“Henri! _Mon frère!_ ” Adrienne cried in my ear. I pulled her back and saw that she was crying tears of joy. “Thanks be to God you’re well! We thought we’d never see you again!”

I embraced my sister tightly as she wept for my homecoming, opening my arms to Monique and Camille as they, too, ran to me. “Adrienne,” I murmured softly, drying her tears and kissing her forehead. “Monique. Camille,” I added as I embraced them, wiping a thumb across their cheeks and kissing their foreheads in turn. _“Mes sœurs.”_

_Éponine_

For a moment, I could only stand and watch them. Enjolras was far more compassionate than he gave himself credit to be.

I quietly stepped out of the carriage as the four of them stayed in a clearly tight embrace; I heard a bit of sniffling from all three of the ladies. At the end of the long moment and after a deep breath, Enjolras pulled back from them. “Adrienne, Monique, Camille, this is my wife, Éponine,” he said, turning around and gesturing to me. The three of them curtseyed to me, and I copied the motion. The eldest, Adrienne, then surprised me by crossing the short gap between us and hugging me tightly.

“Welcome to the family, Éponine,” she smiled. I hugged her back, and immediately felt better about coming here; if my husband and his sisters were on my side, I knew I would be okay. “You didn’t mention in your letter that she was so pretty, Henri!” she mockingly scolded her brother, and I blushed. _“Mademoiselle_ , please – ”

“Oh, none of those formalities! We’re sisters now,” she laughed. “Please, call me Adrienne.”

I smiled again, at a loss for words, as the sisters all simultaneously insisted on ushering us into the house. “I doubt your mother will be this accepting of me,” I murmured to him as I walked in on his arm.

“I doubt it too,” he sighed, before smiling again as the family servants welcomed him home. I was promptly introduced to all of them – Armand, the groundskeeper, Noemie, the cook, Maxime, the butler, and countless others. Noemie left to start dinner as soon as introductions were over. “You must be starving!” she insisted. I tried to keep my stomach from growling; I was quite hungry. Maxime showed us to our room – Enjolras’ old room – where we deposited our bags before going back downstairs for me to get to know his sisters better.

Adrienne, the eldest of the three who had barely turned 20, was recently engaged to a wealthy nobleman on the other side of the city. I suspected he would have an interesting time holding her down to a regular housewife’s duties, but she was a loveable person – she was independent and strong-willed, while at the same time, extremely caring and compassionate. Monique, at 17, was much quieter than her older sister, but had the same sweet temperament. She was the biggest reader of the three and had a huge collection of books in her bedroom. Camille was only 14, and while not quite as reserved as Monique, she was nowhere near as rambunctious as Adrienne – at least, not yet! They were all very personable, and I greatly enjoyed conversing with them.

“What was it like to grow up in Paris, Éponine?” Camille asked breathlessly. I felt Enjolras stiffen next to me at her question – she knew of my background – but I wasn’t afraid to answer her, and gently placed a hand on top of my husband’s in an attempt to quell his worries.

“Well…” I took a moment to carefully consider my words. “It was different for me than it would have been for you. For me…it was hard. My family was quite poor, and…my papa didn’t resort to the most honest methods of getting by.” I paused. “But you would have loved to grow up in Paris,” I added. “When I was a little girl, I saw ladies riding to parties in their carriages almost every night, and I remember envying their pretty dresses, their good fortune…” I trailed off, lost in thought for the moment, until Enjolras squeezed my hand. “But, all that to say, Paris is quite the city,” I finished with a smile.

A knock on the door startled us all. _“Monsieur, Madame, Mademoiselles,_ dinner is served,” Maxime said from the doorway when Adrienne admitted him.

“Thank you, Maxime,” she said. “Will Mama be joining us?”

 _“Oui, Mademoiselle,”_ he answered, and my stomach dropped a little. From the way Enjolras had described his mother, my first encounter with her wasn’t going to be a pleasant one at all. I’d feared this since he reminded me that she had disowned him. I stole a glance, and it was clear that he was worried, too.

“Éponine?” Monique jerked me out of my reverie. “Are you well?”

“Mmh? Oh, I’m fine,” I said with a smile. “A little tired from the journey, but dinner will help, I think.” She smiled, and Maxime ushered us into the huge dining room; I walked in on Enjolras’ arm.

His mother was sitting at the table, watching us as we came in. She was thinner than I had expected – almost, but not quite, unhealthily so; my mind flashed back to my childhood and seeing other starving peasants on the streets. Her iron-gray hair had a few streaks of white in it, and was pulled back into a conservative bun. The only word I could use to describe her was sharp – sharp-featured, sharp-eyed, and I assumed sharp-tongued.

“ _Madame_ ,” he said briefly, his tone courteous, but nothing more. There was a steeliness to his eyes now that I hadn’t seen before, and I didn’t like it. “This is my wife, Éponine.”

She nodded to me. _“Madame,”_ she said. I was a bit startled at her courtesy – partly because I wasn’t used to being addressed as a _Madame_ – but I curtseyed and returned the salutation in a murmur. Her voice was firm and strict, yet distant. From the single word she spoke to me, the biggest impression I got was that she was _tired,_ and her voice gave it away.

Enjolras pulled out a chair for me, across the table from her, before sitting down next to me. As I sat down, I saw her watching me. Her eyes had a hard gleam to them, but with a closer gaze, I saw something deeper that I couldn’t quite identify. I kept my gaze down for the rest of dinner, but it still haunted me. I didn’t know what was behind those eyes, and she was already scary enough.

After dinner was when things got interesting. Maxime cleared the table, then _Madame_ promptly dismissed everyone. “I need to speak to my son…and his wife.” She said the last three words rather pointedly, as if there was a bad taste in her mouth. “Alone.”

 

_Enjolras_

I knew things were going to go downhill the moment Mama wanted to talk to Éponine and I in private. She’d always been a manipulative woman, and I knew she was going to use that skill now. I set my jaw; I had already planned my defenses of my revolution and my wife. My mother was not going to get in my way. I knew how she operated, and how to get around it.

As everyone else gradually left the room, I saw Adrienne gently squeeze Éponine’s hand in encouragement. I was glad that she, Monique and Camille had befriended Éponine so quickly, especially since I knew Mama wouldn’t accept her. As Monique and Camille passed her, she looked to me, and there was that fear I never wanted to see in her eyes again. I opened an arm to her, and she stepped over to stand next to me. My arm locked around her shoulders as hers curled around my waist. We were husband and wife, a united front.

Mama relaxed into her chair and turned to look at us, her gaze boring into Éponine for a moment, before she turned back to me.

“Henri.”

_“Madame.”_

“Why did you do it, son?”

I gritted my teeth. “Whatever do you mean, _Madame?”_

“Everything. After all your radical friends and their blasted ideas drag our name through the mud, you go and rebel like this!” she snapped. “Tell me, son, did you ever give a thought to us at all? To me?”

I briefly clenched my right fist at my side, trying not to punch her and never letting go of my wife. I knew she was explicitly referring to the revolution and implying my marriage, but I decided to keep the latter out of the picture for as long as possible, for Éponine’s sake. “My friends are all dead, _Madame_. They died on our barricade, defending the cause they loved. And I nearly died, too, if it means anything to you.” I knew that last part was a little too harsh, but she had disowned me for my beliefs, and seemed to value our family name over my life. I was going to call her on it.

“So you crawled away from the barricade, back to Bordeaux, and you brought your shame with you,” she answered coldly. “How did you think that would help you?”

Here she went, implying ‘Ponine again. “Do you not know your own son, _Madame?”_ I murmured quietly, but as dangerously as I could. Papa had cultivated a razor-sharp tongue in me before he died, and I wasn’t afraid to use it, even in the presence of this woman who could make any other grown man tremble in fear. “No matter how you wish to deny it, I will always be your flesh and blood.”

“But _she_ never will be,” Mama answered fiercely, pointing at Éponine, who instantly clung tighter to me. “No matter how you try to dress her up and make her look pretty, she will never be anything more than the sweepings of the street. She could never be worthy of being mistress of this house when I die.”

I had never been angrier in my life – not even the morning of the second battle when Éponine and I had argued. She had crossed a line, and I was going to call her on that, too. _“Propter hoc relinquet homo patrem suum et matrem et adherebit uxori suae et erunt duo in carne una,”_ I answered coldly. “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.”

 _“Honora patrem tuum et matrem tuam ut sis longevus super terram quam Dominus Deus tuus daturus est tibi,”_ she retorted. “Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.”

I turned to look at my still-silent wife, who was more scared and confused than ever. Only a brief glance into her eyes told me what I needed to say as I turned back to my mother. “You never did like change unless you could control it, _Madame.”_

Anger flashed through her eyes, but we both knew I was right. Her voice remained infuriatingly calm as she answered, “I merely wish to maintain the integrity of the name of Enjolras. Clearly, I was too negligent in raising you to do the same.”

Éponine started me by answering before I could even draw breath. “He does what he thinks is right!” she said angrily.

“Stay out of affairs you don’t understand, you little street rat!” Mama snapped at her.

“ENOUGH!” I roared.

The room was instantly dead silent. ‘Ponine looked at me, terrified, but my blazing gaze was only for my mother. _“Madame,_ this is where we draw the line. Either you accept me – and by doing so, accept her – or you reject us both,” I whispered dangerously. “You choose.”

She glared back at me for a moment, but I held my ground, doing my best to make my eyes just as angry and forceful as hers. The air was thick with the tension between us; the only sound in the room was my heavy breathing. But gradually, as we stared each other down, her face began to change. The anger in her eyes, which I thought couldn’t increase, proceeded to do so, until she blurted out, “I will not allow dead men and their street rat wives in my house!”

I took a step back, surprised at her sudden proclamation. _What on earth does she mean? I’m alive, and there’s only one of me!_

Surprise was written all over her own face, too. “Out, both of you!” she yelled, nearly weeping. Confused, I took ‘Ponine’s hand, and the two of us hurried out, closing the door behind us and trying to block out her sobs.

 

_Éponine_

The confrontation with my mother-in-law was interesting, to say the least. I hadn’t been expecting to be called a street rat, though that was a glancing blow compared to her final declaration. Both of us were shocked, and neither of us could figure out what she meant.

Adrienne, Monique and Camille were waiting for us when we left the room, clearly confused. “What on earth happened?” Adrienne whispered as the three of them hurried us away. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I was glad to be anywhere but in that room.

“I’m still not entirely sure,” Enjolras answered, clearly confused. “How much did you hear?”

“The whole thing,” Monique admitted, a little shamefaced. “I told them not to eavesdrop, but they wouldn’t listen to me. Besides, we were all curious to see what Mama would say, even though we knew it would probably be nothing good.”

Enjolras chuckled. “I suppose I can’t blame you.”

“Come to my room, we’ll talk in there,” Adrienne said, taking her brother’s hand and hurrying us along. I lost track of how many hallways we turned down and staircases we went up, before the five of us arrived in Adrienne’s room. She shut the door behind us as Monique and Camille sat on her bed; Enjolras found a chair for me and insisted on standing behind me as Adrienne sat down at her writing desk. “So what exactly happened?” she asked, turning to Enjolras.

“As I said, I’m still not quite sure,” he answered. “All I know to be certain is that Mama will never accept Éponine, and thus by extension, she won’t accept me.”

“What will you do, then?” Monique asked in a scared voice.

Enjolras sighed. “I don’t know, _ma petite sœur,”_ he answered heavily. “Most likely, Éponine and I will have no choice but to be dead to you.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Adrienne leaped to her feet. “You can’t mean that, Henri!” she cried.

“Did you think this was an easy decision for me, Adrienne?” he answered heavily; I could see the pain in his eyes. “If I could dictate my future, the entire argument I just had with Mama wouldn’t have happened. All three of you know I love you dearly, and I wish this rift in our family wasn’t here.”

The betrayal was evident in Adrienne’s eyes as she looked at him, seemingly struck dumb. The two stared each other down for a moment, until she spoke again. “What exactly will you do?”

“I already said, I don’t know,” he answered; I could tell he was getting more irritable by the second. I started to worry; I hated it when he got angry. In fact, he scared me. “I’m still trying to figure out a better alternative to what I already suggested, but I don’t know that one exists.”

“Let’s go back a bit, then,” Monique suggested, and all eyes went to her. “What exactly caused Mama’s outburst in the first place?”

He surprised me by turning and slamming his fist against a wall; all three of his sisters jumped. “Dammit, am I supposed to have all the answers?” he yelled angrily. “How many times must I tell you I don’t know what to do, or what caused this? I can’t!”

I stood up and carefully approached him to put a hand on his shoulder blade. “Sweetheart…” I murmured softly, hoping I wouldn’t set him off again. But he didn’t visibly react to me. He continued to face away, breathing hard.

Seemingly emboldened by my move, Camille stood up and slowly approached us. “Henri, please…” she murmured. “We want a resolution to this just as much as you do. Please, let us try to help you.”

He heaved a sigh and let his hand fall from the wall. “Alright, what’s your plan?” he asked gruffly.


	16. Chapter 16

_Enjolras_

Part of me still couldn’t believe the audacity of what we were attempting. Adrienne was going to attempt to reason with our mother and figure out the cause of her outburst, while Éponine and I would listen in on the other side of the door. I was nervous – afraid of how Adrienne would approach the situation, afraid of what my mother would say, afraid that Éponine and I would get caught. The endless possibilities ran through my mind nonstop.

Adrienne snuck quietly through the hall towards Mama’s room, Éponine and I following close behind. ‘Ponine was squeezing my hand so tightly I wondered if I would ever be able to use it again. I wanted to comfort her, but I was too nervous to do anything but hold on and try to walk as quietly as my sister.

Our little procession stopped when we reached the huge door to Mama’s room, and Adrienne turned around to look at us. “Wish me luck,” she chuckled quietly.

I released my wife’s hand to hug my sister. _“Bon chance, ma_ _sœur,”_ I murmured in her ear, kissing her temple. “Be careful.”

“You know I will,” she grinned. “Go back around the corner.” I could only chuckle and go back to Éponine, who was still as nervous as ever. I tried to give her a smile, but it didn’t work, so I settled for putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple also.

When we were concealed around the corner, Adrienne knocked confidently on the door.

“Who is it?” Mama’s voice said, slightly muffled by the door.

 _“C’est moi,_ Adrienne,” she answered loudly.

 _“Entrez.”_ Adrienne gave us one last smile before going in, shutting the door behind her. According to plan, Éponine and I immediately moved up to listen. Monique and Camille were keeping Maxime occupied downstairs, so he couldn’t accidentally come up and catch us eavesdropping. “What do you need, my dear?” Mama’s voice said.

Adrienne seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering, “I know you’re upset about Henri returning. Everyone knows.”

“Adrienne – ”

“I was wondering what you wanted Monique, Camille and I to do, since he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave any time soon,” she added quickly, if a bit frantically.

I exhaled slowly. _Good save, Adrienne._

There was a long pause on the other side of the door; I presumed Mama was glaring at her. I held my breath, awaiting her answer. Finally, I heard her say coldly, “You will tolerate his presence until he leaves, but nothing more. As for that bitch he calls his wife, ignore her entirely. She will never be part of our family.”

I closed my eyes at Mama’s words, trying in vain to keep my blood from boiling at her words. I didn’t understand how she could so quickly reject me – her own flesh and blood, raised by her – because of one choice I made in politics and one choice I made in love.

“I assume that’s all you wanted to ask me?”

Adrienne paused. _“Oui,_ but I think you’re wrong.”

I heard a chair scoot back; Mama was probably standing up. “How dare you challenge my authority in my own home!”

“Mama, he’s your _son!”_ Adrienne shouted. “I don’t understand why you suddenly refuse to call him the flesh and blood of yours that he is because he made two decisions you didn’t agree with! Is the woman who raised six children truly that cold-hearted?”

“Did I not teach you that family comes first?” she shot back. “He _betrayed us,_ Adrienne! Everything his father ever tried to teach him, he rejected and drug through the dirt when he went off to that damn university. All of this is entirely because of him!”

Unable to contain myself anymore, I opened the door, letting it slam against the wall as I strode in, straight to my mother. I heard Éponine gasp in shock, but she didn’t follow me in. “I do what I judge to be right, _Madame,_ regardless of the opinions of others, especially the upper class. I have seen poverty beyond your imagination in the last four years, and I will do what I must to eradicate it entirely.”

She whipped around to face me. “I have no sons left!” she screamed at me, looking me dead in the eyes. “They are _all dead!_ They died years ago!”

A heavy silence fell over the room, and for a brief moment everyone froze. Mama’s face was frozen in shock yet again, Adrienne was looking at me, seemingly terrified, and all I could hear was my own racing heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

I slowly approached my mother, cautiously reaching out. “Mama…” I whispered, realizing that it was the first time that night that I hadn’t called her _Madame._ “It’s me…it’s your son, Henri. Henri-François. I’m alive, and I’m right here.” My hand made contact with her cheek, and she almost whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lower lip. “Do you refuse to believe me?” I murmured. Tears started to slip from her eyes, but she still refused to make eye contact with me. “Mama, look at me. _S'il vous plait,”_ I whispered. _“Regardez-moi. C'est votre fils.”_

Finally, she acknowledged me again. Her eyes were swimming as they made contact with mine, and she finally wept, _“Mon fils! J'ai pensé que vous seriez jamais rentrer à la maison!”_ Before I knew it, she had thrown her arms around me and was weeping on my shoulder. Stunned by all the sudden changes in her demeanor in one night, I hugged her tightly and let her weep. _“Je t’aime, Mama,”_ I murmured.

 

_Éponine_

Eavesdropping on Adrienne’s conversation with _Madame_ was, to say the very least, terrifying.

As soon as the door closed behind her, my mind started to consider all the bad things that could happen – _Madame_ could kick Adrienne out of her room, realize she was being spied on, yell at us again…just thinking about her made me feel like a little child again, and not in a good way.

Enjolras squatted against the wall with me and held my hand, stroking it with his thumb as the conversation progressed. “I think it’s going well,” he murmured.

But of course, that was when things went downhill again.

“How dare you challenge my authority in my own home!” _Madame_ shouted, and I flinched. After being brought up by one of the most infamous criminals and worst men in France, raised voices of those older than me had always scared me.

“Mama, he’s your _son!”_ Adrienne shouted. “I don’t understand why you suddenly refuse to call him the flesh and blood of yours that he is because he made two decisions you didn’t agree with! Is the woman who raised six children truly that cold-hearted?”

I resisted the urge to let out a cheer, but that urge was quickly dampened when _Madame_ spoke again.

“Did I not teach all six of you that family comes first? He _betrayed us,_ Adrienne! Everything his father ever tried to teach him, he rejected and drug through the dirt when he went off to that damn university. All of this is entirely because of him!”

Enjolras had clearly been containing himself up to this point, but now, he stood up, let go of my hand, and pushed the door open with all the strength he had.

My heart almost stopped.

“I do what I judge to be right, _Madame,_ regardless of the opinions of others, especially the upper class. I have seen poverty beyond your imagination in the last four years, and I will do what I must to eradicate it entirely,” his cold voice answered her accusations.

“I have no sons left!” she screamed in response. “They are _all dead!_ They died years ago!”

I grew even more tense as I waited outside the room; my heart pounding like a drum in my throat. _What on earth is this woman saying? Is he not her son?_

Silence hung over the room for a long time; I didn’t know what to think what was going on in there. After a long moment, I heard Enjolras’ voice, but he was speaking too quietly for me to make out his words. I assumed he was trying to calm her.

Then she started crying again. _“Mon fils! J'ai pensé que vous seriez jamais rentrer à la maison!”_

 _“Je t’aime, Mama,”_ was the quiet reply from her son.

Within seconds, Adrienne’s head peeped around the corner, and she gestured to me. “Come in, Mama wants to met you again,” she smiled, extending a hand to me. With a tentative smile, I took it, and we walked inside. Enjolras was actually smiling, letting his mother go from his arms as she turned to face me.

And when she looked at me again, I finally realized what was first missing behind that hard stare of hers – the woman behind those eyes. A woman who had been forged in the fires of hardship and quenched to a brittle hardness by the waters of loss – a loss so painful she had tried to never feel it again.

 _“Ma fille!”_ She greeted me with a tight embrace. _“Bienvenue à la maison,”_ she smiled.

The realization hit me the hardest then, and I couldn’t help but cry – because I had a family now.


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue

 

5 Years Later – 1837

_Éponine walked out her front door the afternoon of June 6 and put her hand up to shield her eyes against the sun as she looked around._ Looks like another hot one… _She was thankful that Enjolras had found a job where they could stay in Paris; just as he had planned, he was now in a starting position in the government. As nervous as she was, she found herself enjoying upper-class city life – fancy dresses, going to parties with important people, treated as their equal, being addressed as and referred to as “Madame Enjolras”…_

_Suddenly, she sucked in a breath, putting a hand to her belly. She looked down at her waist, which was just starting to thicken with the beginning of pregnancy. She smiled to herself, thinking about the first years of parenthood that she had already experienced. They had discovered her first pregnancy in Bordeaux, just after their wedding, and when the baby was born, Enjolras insisted that they didn’t try for another child at least until the first was talking._

I wish my children could have known the _Amis_ …they’d be another part of the family. They could be the “uncles” that babysat them, taught them to swear…

_“Mama! Mama!” her son came running to her. She turned to the source of the sound, laughing joyfully as the 5-year-old came as fast as his little legs would carry him. She scooped him up in her arms and held him on her hip when he reached her. “Is Papa coming home soon?”_

_“Soon, Gavroche. Only a few more minutes now,” she answered, kissing her son on the forehead and readjusting her grip on him as she turned around to face the direction from whence Enjolras would arrive. “Were you a good boy at school today?” Their little house was just down the street from the school, and the area was incredibly well-patrolled by the police, since an Inspector’s daughter also went there, so Enjolras and Éponine had no problem letting their little boy walk himself to and from school every day._

_“Yes, Mama!” The boy’s face lit up with pride. “The teacher let me sing with the six-year-olds at music time today!”_

“Trés bon!” _she exclaimed, kissing his cheek again. “I’m proud of you_ , mon chère,” _she said with a smile. She turned her head again, and there was Enjolras – approaching from the horizon, on his favorite bay mare that he had ridden to the capitol that day._

_“Papa!” Gavroche started exclaiming in excitement when he saw his father. He struggled to get out of Éponine’s arms, but she refused to put him down until the mare was in the stables. As soon as he came around to the front of the house, she set the boy down and let him sprint to his father, still yelling, “Papa! Papa! Papa!”_

_Enjolras laughed as he scooped his son up into his arms. “There’s my boy!” he exclaimed, tossing him into the air and making him squeal again. “Were you good today?”_

_“He sang up a year at music time,” Éponine said proudly._

_Enjolras grinned at the boy. “I’m impressed, Gavroche!”_

“Merci _, Papa!” he grinned back, and his father kissed him on the cheek._ “Puis-je aller jouer?”

“Bien sûr,” _Enjolras smiled, setting his son down. “Run along!” The boy ran through the house and into the back, laughing, as Enjolras entered the house, gently kissing Éponine on the lips. “How have you been today,_ ma femme?” _he asked affectionately as she shut the front door._

_She smiled. “This morning was better than the last, to be certain. I managed to clean the whole house after Gavroche left for school before I had to lay down.”_

_He grinned, walking over to her and putting a hand on her still-flat belly. “I’m so excited for this baby,” he murmured, gently resting his forehead against hers and kissing her again._

_As Enjolras looked at his 24-year-old wife, barely pregnant with their second child, he had a momentary flashback to the 15-year-old girl he had fallen in love with, who had kept her eyes down in the Café Musain for fear of being noticed by a man other than Marius. In some ways, the two were very much the same woman, and in some ways, they were astronomically different. In his heart, he loved them both the same, and he loved every part of the transformation the first had undergone to become the woman who stood before him._

_“When should we tell Gavroche he’s going to be a big brother?” Éponine giggled, jerking him out of his reverie. He grinned at the mischievous look on her face, taking a moment to reply._

_“Not just yet,” he grinned, kissing her again, before his face seemed to fall slightly._

_“What is it?” she asked, concerned._

_“Have you realized what day it is?” he asked softly. Éponine nodded, not having to ask his meaning, as her face, too, began to fall._

_“I miss them too,” she said just as softly. “Every day.”_

_“Five years, it’s been…” he murmured, turning away. “I still hurt over them every day, when I walk into the capitol building, and I think, ‘This was what they tried to end...’ and I haven’t done it yet.”_

_She put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her, his eyes still sad. “They’re still with us in spirit. All of them,” she smiled. “I was just thinking about them today, actually. How they would have been with Gavroche, and this baby.”_

_Enjolras smiled a little. “Grantaire would have taught them to swear,” he laughed._

_“And Joly would have helped them with their science homework.”_

_“And Prouvaire would have helped them with their Literature and Poetry classes.”_

_“And Combeferre would have been the babysitter.”_

_He walked over to his wife and kissed her gently. “Someday our children know all about them, and why Papa works to change the world every day.”_


End file.
